THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 
OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 
PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


.WiUVith  COLLECTION 


%J/t—C4  ^i^Clj/ 


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Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1880,  by 

B.  F.  CRAIG, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


PRINTED  AND  ELECTROTYPED  BY 

Ramsey,  Millet  &  Hudson,  Kansas  City,  Mo. 

1880. 


TO   THE    RISING    GENERATION    THIS    BOOK    IS    AFFECTION- 
ATELY DEDICATED  BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


The  Story   of  a  Hundred   Years.     Pen     Pictures  of 
Eventful  Scenes  and  Struggles  of  Life. 

Page. 

Scene  i — Introduction 9 

Scene  2— The  Hero  of  Shirt-Tail  Bend     .....  18 

Scene  3 — The  Separated  Sisters <    .    •  27 

Scene  4 — Roxie  Daymon  and  Rose  Simon    ....  39 

Scene  5 — The  Belle  of  Port  William  .    .    .    .    .    .    .  5° 

Scene  6 — The  Second  Generation  .    .    .    .    .    .        ■  62 

gcene  7 — War  Between  the  States 77 

History,    Science,   Philosophy    and    Art,    Blended    in 
Original  Lectures. 

Lecture  1 — On  Liberty  and  Law 93 

Lecture  2— On  Time  and  Motion 106 

Lecture  3— On  Mind  and  Organism I21 

Lecture  4 — On  Man  and  Animals      x38 

Lecture  5— On  Spirit  and  Soul x56 


contents. 

Genius  and  Poetry. 

Genius 175 

My  Native  Land — address  to  Young  America  .    .    .176 

Rise  and  Fall  of  Old  Nick— to  the  Devil 180 

Confederate  Flag — to  the  Ladies  of  Plattsburg     .    .183 

Family  and  Fate — to  a  Female  Relative 184 

Twilight — Intermediate  Body  and  Soul  .    .    .    .    .    .187 

The  Devil  and  Tom  Walker — a  Dialogue 1 88 

The  Beautiful  Snow — an  Emblem  of  Virtue  .    .    .    .192 
The  Workmen's  Saturday  Night — a  Tribute  to  Hon- 
est Labor 196 

Inside  View  of  the  United  States  Mail — Revealed  by 

the  Angel  of  Observation 198 

Hard  Times 202 

The  Power  of  Truth 204 

The  Wheels  of  Time 204 

The  Days  of  My  Childhood 205 

Ideas  and  Idols — Essay  on  Jacob  and  Laban    .    .    .  206 

The  Dying  Drunkard  to  His  Soul   . 208 

The  Moneyless  Man  vs.  Moneyless  Woman  .    .    .    .211 
The  Poet  vs.  Tom  Watson's  Deer 213 


;p™  p 


/ 


EN 


J 


ICTUSES 


Of  Eventful  Scenes  and  Struggles  of  Life. 


SCENE  FIRST— INTRODUCTION. 

It  is  fashionable  to  preface  what  we  have  to  say. 

Some  men  build  a  large  portico  in  front  of  the  edifice 
they  erect. 

This  may  attract  the  eye  of  a  stranger,  but  no  real  com- 
foit  can  be  realized  until  we  enter  the  house. 

And  then  no  display  of  fine  furniture  or  studied  form 
of  manners  can  equal  a  whole-soul,   hearty  welcome. 

Besides,  no  long  proclamation  of  the  entertainment  can 
equal  in  interest  the  entertainment  itself. 

Without  further  preliminary  ceremony,  I  will  introduce 
you  to  the  sad  experience  of  a  living  man : — 

Born  in  the  house  of  respectable  parents,  on  the  south- 
ern bank  of  the  beautiful  Ohio,  in  the  dawn  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  and  educated  in  a  log  school  house,  the  first  scenes 
of  my  manhood  were  upon  the  waters  of  the  great  Mississippi 
river  and  its  tributaries.  Leaving  home  at  an  early  age,  no 
hopeful  boy  was  ever  turned  loose  in  the  wide  world  more 
ignorant  of  the  traps  and  pit-falls  set  to  catch  and  degrade 
the  youth  of  this  broad  and  beautiful  land. 

At   Vicksburg,  Natchez,  Under-the-Hill,   and  the  Cres- 


10  PEN    PICTURES. 

cent  City,  with  armies  of  dissipation — like  the  Roman  Caesar 
— I  came,  I  saw,  I  conquered. 

I  had  been  taught  from  my  earliest  infancy  that  a  thief 
was  a  scape-goat — on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  left  gate,  where 
all  the  goats  are  to  be  crowded  on  the  last  day.     And  that 

saved  me. 

For  I  soon  discovered  that  the  gambler  and  the  thief  acted 
upon  the  same  theory. 

Having  no  desire  to  live  through  the  scenes  of  my  life 
again — I  am  not  writing  my  own  history,  but  the  history  of 
some  of  the  events  in  the  lives  of  others  that  I  have  witness- 
ed or  learned  by  tradition — in  the  execution  of  the  task  I 
shall  enter  the  palace  like  the  log  cabin — without  stopping 
to  ring  the  bell. 

Although  I  have  been  a  diligent  reader  for  more  than 
forty  years,  my  greatest  knowledge  of  human  character  has 
been  drawn  from  observation.  For  prudential  reasons  some 
fancy  names  are  used  in  this  story,  but  the  characters  drawn 
are  true  to  the  letter.  Local,  it  is  true,  but  may  they  not  rep- 
resent character  throughout  this  broad  continent  ?  In  1492 
Columbus  discovered  America — a  Rough  Diamond — a  New 

World. 

Our  fathers  passed  through  the  struggle  of  life  in  the  rough, 
and  the  log  cabin  ought  to  be  as  dear  to  the  American  hea.t 
as  the  modern  palace.  Emancipated  from  ideas  of  locality, 
I  hope,  and  honestly  trust  that  the  sentiments  in  the  Rough 
Diamond  will  be  treasured  in  the  hearts  of  the  millions  of  my 
countrymen,  and  that  no  American  character  will  ever  be  • 
come  so  brilliant  that  it  cannot  allude  with  a  nat've  pride  to 
the  Rough  Diamond — our  country  a  hundred  years  ago. 

And  with  a  thousand  other  ideas  brought  to  the  mind, 
and  blended  with  the  Rough  Diamond,  may  the  good  Angel 
of  observation  rest  with  the  reader  as  you  peruse  these  pages. 

Near  the  seat  of  the  present  town  of  Helena,   Arkansas, 


1 


PEN    PICTURES.  11 

old  Billy  Horner  and  Henry  Mooney  made  a  race  on  two 
little  ponies,  called  respectively  Silver  Heels  and  the  Spotted 
Buck. 

The  distance  was  one  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  the  stake 
one  hundred  dollars. 

Wishing  to  obtain  the  signature  of  the  Governor  of  Ar- 
kansas to  a  land  grant  and  title  to  a  certain  tract  of  land  on 
the  Mississippi  river,  I  determined  to  attend  the  races. 

The  ponies  were  to  start  at  twelve  o'clock,  on  the  15th 
day  of  May.  I  forget  the  year,  but  it  was  soon  after  the 
inauguration  of  steam  navigation  on  the  Mississippi. 

On  the  14th  day  of  May  I  left  Bush  Bayou,  twenty  miles 
below  Helena  and  fifteen  miles  back  from  the  river,  where 
I  was  on  a  tour  of  surveying,  in  company  of  two  negro  boys, 
from  fifteen  to  twenty  years  of  age,  to  assist  me.  Our  route 
was  down  the  Bayou,  which  was  evidently  an  old  bed  of  the 
great  river.  How  long  since  the  muddy  and  turbulent  wa- 
ters had  left  this  location  and  sought  the  present  channel  no 
human  calculation  couid  tell.  Trees  had  grown  up  as  large 
as  any  in  other  localities  in  the  Mississippi  bottoms,  in  some 
places  extending  entirely  across  the  Bayou ;  in  other  places 
there  was  an  open  space  one  hundred  yards  wide  and  some- 
times a  mile  long,  but  there  were  many  places  where  the  tim- 
ber extended  from  shore  to  shore  for  miles.  In  such  places 
our  only  guide  was  a  blaze  upon  the  trees,  made  by  the  first 
navigators  of  the  Bayou.  We  started  in  a  canoe,  eight  feet 
long  and  eighteen  inches  wide,  with  a  large  trunk,  a  number 
of  tools,  and  three  men.  When  all  were  on  board  the  top 
of  our  boat  was  only  three-quarters  of  an  inch  above  the 
water.  In  this  critical  condition  the  negroes  had  to  go  as 
freight,  for  they  are  proverbially  too  awkward  to  manage  a 
nice  thing.  Near  the  close  of  our  journey  we  were  attacked 
by  an  alligator.  He  was  sixteen  feet  long,  and  larger  than 
our  boat.     His  attack  frightened  the  negroes  so  badly  that  it 


12  PEN    PICTURES. 

was  impossible  to  keep  them  still,  and  we  came  very  near  be- 
ing upset.  I  fired  several  times  at  the  alligator,  with  a 
double-barreled  shot-gun,  charged  with  twenty-four  buckshot, 
but  the  shot  only  glanced  from  his  scales  and  fell  into  the 
water.  At  last,  frightened  by  the  loud  cries  of  the  negroes, 
the  animal  left  us. 

When  we  arrived  on  the  bank  of  the  Mississippi  the 
Western  hemisphere  had  blindfolded  the  eye  of  day;  the  riv- 
er was  bank  full,  the  turbulent  waters  bearing  a  large  quantity 
of  drift  wood  down  the  stream.  Upon  the  Arkansas  shore 
there  was  no  sign  of  civilization.  On  the  Mississiopi  shore, 
two  miles  below,  there  was  a  cabin,  and  the  faint  light  of  the 
inmates  was  the  only  sign  of  civilization  that  met  our  view. 
To  cross  the  great  river,  in  the  dark,  with  its  turbulent  wa- 
ters and  drift  wood,  with  a  barque  so  heavily  laden,  was 
worse  than  the  encounter  with  the  alligator.  I  was  young, 
brave  and  enthusiastic.  Directing  the  negroes  to  place  Them- 
selves in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  not  to  stir  hand  or  foot 
at  the  risk  of  being  knocked  overboard  with  the  paddle,  I 
headed  our  little  barque  for  the  light  in  the  cabin,  which  gave 
us  a  course  quartering  down  stream.  To  have  held  her 
square  across  the  stream,  she  would  have  undoubtedly  filled 
with  water.  The  night  was  dark,  but  the  air  was  still  as  the 
inaudible  breath  of  time. 

Knowing  that  the  perils  of  the  sea,  without  wind,  are 
abated  one  hundred  fold,  I  made  the  venture,  and  landed 
safely  at  the  Mississippi  cabin. 

Eighteen  miles  below  Helena,  and  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  river,  I  passed  the  night,  with  a  determination  to  be 
on  the  race  ground  the  next  day  at  twelve  o'clock.  I  was 
up  early  in  the  morning.  As  I  passed  out  the  cot  of  my 
friend,  in  front  of  me  the  great  father  of  waters  rolled  on  in 
his  majesty  to  the  bosom  of  the  ocean. 

On  the  background  the  foliage  of  the  forest  cast  a  green 


PEN    PICTURES.  13 

shade  upon  the  gray  light  of  the  morning.  Every  animal  on 
the  premises  had  sought  refuge  in  the  cane  brakes  from  the 
ravages  of  the  green-head  fly  and  the  gallinipper.  Like 
Richard  the  Third — I  was  ready  to  cry,  a  horse — a  horse — my 
kingdom  for  a  horse. 

Through  the  dim  distance,  half  concealed  by  the  canet 
I  discovered  a  mule,  and  was  fortunate  enough  to  bridle  him. 
He  was  an  old  mule;  some  said  the  first  Chickasaw  French- 
man that  ever  settled  in  St.  Louis  rode  him  from  the  north 
of  Mexico  to  the  Mississippi  river. 

Others  said  that  he  was  in  the  army  of  the  First 
Napoleon,  and  had  been  imported  across  the  water.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  he  was  a  good  saddle  mule,  for  I  arrived  upon 
the  race  ground  fifteen  minutes  ahead  of  time. 

I  obtained  the  desired  signature  and  saw  the  Spotted  Buck 
win  the  race.  But  many  said  it  was  a  jockey  race,  and  that 
Silver  Heels  was  the  fleetest  horse.  The  races  continued 
through  the  evening.  I  had  no  desire  to  bet,  but  if  I  had, 
I  should  have  bet  on  the  fast  man  and  not  the  fast  horse 

After  this  event,  and  nearly  half  a  century  ago,  I  was 
standing  on  the  street  in  Vicksburg.  It  was  early  in  the 
morning,  and  the  city  unusually  quiet.  My  attention  was 
attracted  in  the  direction  of  the  jail  by  women  running  in- 
doors and  men  rushing  along  the  street;  I  saw  sticks,  stones, 
and  bricks  flying,  and  men  running  as  in  pursuit  of  some 
wild  animal,  and  as  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  figure  of  the 
retreating  man,  the  sharp  sound  of  a  rifle  gun  rang  out  upon 
the  morning  air. 

Following  on  to  a  spot  on  the  street  where  a  large  crowd 
of  men  had  collected,  I  saw  the  face  of  a  dead  man  as  the 
body  was  being  turned  over  by  one  of  the  bystanders. 
The  lineaments  of  the  cold,  marble  face,  spoke  in 
a  language  not  to  be  mistaken — that  the  dead  was,  in  life,  a 
br.ive  man. 


"  PEN    PICTURES. 

I  soon  learned  that  the  name  of  the  dead  man  was 
"  Alonzo  Phelps,"  and  that  he  had  been  tried  for  the  crime 
of  murder  and  sentenced  by  the  court  to  be  hanged  by  the 
neck  until  he  was  dead,  and  this  was  the  day  for  his  execu- 
tion ;  that  he  had  broken,  or  found  an  opportunity  to  leave 
the  jail,  and  nothing  would  stop  him  but  the  rifle-gun  in  the 
hands  of  an  officer  of  the  law. 

I  also  learned  that  he  had  written  a  confession  of  his 
crimes,  the  manuscript  of  which  was  then  in  the  jail,  for  he 
had  knocked  the  keeper  down  with  a  stone  ink-stand,  with 
which  he  had  been  furnished  to  Write  his  confession. 

By  the  politeness  of  the  jailor  I  was  permitted  to  exam- 
ine the  confession,  which  closed  with  these  remarkable  words, 
' '  To-morrow  is  the  day  appointed  for  my  execution,  but  I  will  not 
hang.'" 

The  confession  was  afterward  published.  I  read  it  many 
times,  but  have  forgotten  most  of  it.  I  remember  he  said  the 
first  man  he  ever  murdered  was  in  Europe,  and  that  he  was 
compelled,  for  safety,  to  flee  the  country  and  come  to  Amer- 
ica. There  was  nothing  so  unusual  in  this,  but  the  manner 
in  which  he  disposed  of  his  victim  was  singular,  and  more 
particularly  the   revelation  he  gave  of  his  thoughts  at  the 

time. 

He  said  he  carried  the  body  to  a  graveyard,  and,  with  a 
spade  that  had  been  left  there,  he  shoveled  all  of  the  dirt  out 
of  a  newly-made  grave  until  he  came  to  the  coffin.  He  then 
laid  the  body  of  the  murdered  man  on  the  coffin  and  refilled 
the  grave.  "I  then,"  says  he,  "left  the  graveyard,  and 
spent  the  balance  of  the  night  in  reflections.  How  strange, 
I  thought,  it  would  be  for  two  spirits,  on  the  last  day,  to  find 
themselves  in  the  same  grave."  "  I  thought,"  says  he,  "if  the 
relatives  of  the  rightful  owner  of  the  grave  should,  in  after 
years,  conclude  to  move  the  bones  of  their  kinsman, 
when  they  dug  them  up  there  would  be  two  skulls,  four  arms, 


PEN    PICTURES.  15 

and  so  on,  and  how  it  would  puzzle  them  to  get  the  bones  of 
their  kinsman." 

After  reading  this  confession  I  regretted  very  much  that 
I  had  never  seen  Alonzo  Phelps  while  living,  for  there  was 
blended  in  his  composition  many  strange  elements.  But  that 
part  of  his  confession  that  gives  interest  to  our  story  was  the 
papers  taken  from  the  man  he  murdered  in  Europe,  of  which 
we  have  spoken.  He  concealed  the  papers,  in  a  certain 
place,  on  the  night  he  buried  the  man,  and,  as  he  was  com- 
pelled to  flee  the  country,  said  papers  were,  a  long  time  after- 
ward, discovered  by  reading  his  confession  made  in  America. 
With  the  settlement  of  the  West,  the  navigation  of  the 
western  waters  was  one  of  the  principal  industries.  Keel 
and  flat  bottom  boats  were  the  first  used.  Keel  boats  were 
propelled  against  the  stream  w'th  long  poles,  placed  with  one 
end  on  the  bottom  of  the  stream  and  a  man's  shoulder  at  the 
other  end,  pushing  the  boat  from  under  him,  and  conse- 
quently against  the  stream.  Flat  bottom  boats  only  drifted 
with  the  current,  sometimes  bearing  large  cargoes. 

Louisville,  Kentucky,  was  one  of  the  principal  points 
between  Pittsburg  and  New  Orleans.  Here  the  placid  waters 
of  the  beautiful  river  rushed  madly  over  some  ledges  of  rocks, 
called  the  falls  of  Ohio.  Many  reshipments  in  an  early  day 
were  performed  at  this  point,  and  if  the  boat  was  taken  over 
the  falls  her  pilot  for  the  trip  to  New  Orleans  was  not  consid- 
ered competent  to  navigate  the  falls.  Resident  pilots,  in 
Louisville,  were  always  employed  to  perform  this  task. 

And  few  of  the  early  boatmen  were  ever  long  upon  the 
river  without  having  acquaintances  in  Louisville. 

Beargrass  creek  emptied  its  lazy  waters  into  the  Ohio  at 
a  point  called,  at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  the  suburbs  of 
Louisville. 

In  a  long  row  of  cottages  on  the  margin  of  Beargrass 
creek,  that  has  long  since  given  place  to  magnificent  build- 


16  PEN  PICTURES. 

ings,  was  the  home  of  a  friend  with  whom  I  was  stopping. 

Rising  early  one  morning,  I  found  the  neighborhood  in 
great  excitement;  a  woman  was  missing.  It  was  Daymon's 
wife.  She  had  no  relatives  known  to  the  people  of  Louis- 
ville. She  was  young,  intelligent,  and  as  pure  from  any  stain 
of  character  as  the  beautiful  snow. 

Daymon  was  also  young.  He  was  a  laborer,  or  boat 
hand,  frequently  assisting  in  conducting  boats  across  the  falls. 
But  he  was  dissipated,  and  in  fits  of  intoxication  frequently 
abused  his  wife. 

All  who  knew  Daymon's  wife  were  ready  to  take  the 
dark  fiend  by  the  throat  who  had  consigned  her  beautiful 
form  to  the  dark  waters  of  Beargrass  creek. 

o 

Everyone  was  busy  to  find  some  sign  or  memento  of 
the  missing  woman. 

A  large  crowd  had  gathered  around  a  shop,  where  a 
large  woden  boot  hung  out  for  a  sign — a  shoe  shop.  When 
I  arrived  on  the  spot  a  workman  was  examining  a  shoe,  and 
testified  that  it  was  one  of  a  pair  he  had  previously  made  for 
Daymon's  wife.  The  shoe  had  been  picked  up,  early  that 
morning,  on  the  margin  of  Beargrass  creek.  Suspicion 
pointed  her  finger  at  Daymon,  and  he  was  arrested  and 
charged  with  drowning  his  wife  in  Beargrass  creek. 

Daymon  was  not  a  bad-looking  man,  and,  as  the  evi- 
dence was  all  circumstantial,  I  felt  an  uncommon  interest  in 
the  trial,  and  made  arrangements  to  attend  the  court,  which 
was  to  sit  in  two  weeks. 

On  the  morning  of  the  trial  the  court  room  was  crowded. 
The  counsel  for  the  state  had  everything  ready,  and  the  pris- 
oner brought  to  the  bar.  The  indictment  was  then  read, 
charging  the  prisoner  with  murder  in  the  first  degree.  And 
to  the  question,  are  you  guilty  or  not  guilty  ?  Daymon  an- 
swered not  guilty,  and  resumed  his  seat.  Silence  now  pre- 
vailed for  a  few  minutes,  when  the  judge  inquired,  "is  the 


PEN    PICTURES.  17 

state  ready  ?"  The  attorney  answered,  ' '  yes. "  The  judge  in- 
quired, "has  the  prisoner  any  one  to  defend  him ?"  Daymon 
shook  his  head. 

"It  is  then  the  duty  of  the  court  to  appoint  your  defense," 
said  the  judge,  naming  the  attorneys,  and  the  trial  proceeded. 
The  witnesses  for  the  state  being  sworn,  testified  to  the  shoe 
as  already  described.  In  the  mean  time  Beargrass  creek  had 
been  dragged,  and  the  body  of  a  woman  found.  The  fish 
had  eaten  the  face  beyond  recognition,  but  a  chintz  calico 
dress  was  sworn  to  by  two  sewing  women  as  identical  to  one 
they  had  previously  made  for  Daymon' s  wife. 

The  state's  attorney  pictured  all  of  this  circumstantial 
evidence  to  the  jury  in  an  eloquence  seldom  equaled. 

But,  who  ever  heard  a  lawyer  plead  the  cause  of  a  mon- 
eyless man  ?  The  attorneys  appointed  to  defend  Daymon 
preserved  only  their  respectability  in  the  profession. 

And  the  jury  returned  their  verdict  guilty.  Nothing  now 
remained  but  to  pronounce  the  sentence,  and  then  the  execu- 
tion. 

The  judge  was  a  crippled  man,  and  slowly  assumed  an 
erect  position.  Then  casting  his  eyes  around  the  court  room, 
they  rested  upon  the  prisoner,  and  he  paused  a  moment.  That 
moment  was  silent,  profound,  awful !  for  every  ear  was  open 
to  catch  the  first  sound  of  that  sentence.  The  silence  was 
broken  by  a  wild  scream  at  the  door.  The  anxious  crowd 
opened  a  passage,  and  a  woman  entered  the  court  room,  her 
hair  floating  upon  her  shoulders,  and  her  voice  wild  and 
mellow  as  the  horn  of  resurrection.  That  woman  was  Day- 
mon's  wife. 


SCENE    SECOND. —THE    HERO    OF    SHIRT-TAIL 

BEND. 

Two  boys  in  one  house  grew  up  side  by  side, 
By  the  mother  loved,  and  the  father's  pride 
With  raven  locks  and  rosy  cheeks  they  stood, 
As  living  types  of  the  family  blood. 
Don,  from  the  mother  did  his  mettle  take, 
Dan,  the  Prodigal — born  to  be  a  rake. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1816,  the  Enterprise  landed  at 
Louisville,  having  made  the  trip  from  New  Orleans  in  twen- 
ty-five days.  She  was  the  first  steamboat  that  ever  ascended 
the  Mississippi  river.  The  event  was  celebrated  with  a  pub- 
lic dinner,  given  by  the  citizens  of  Louisville  to  Captain 
Henry  M.  Shreve,  her  commander. 

A  new  era  was  inaugurated  on  the  western  waters,  yet 
the  clouds  of  monopoly  had  to  be  blown  away,  and  the  free 
navigation  of  the  Mississippi  heralded  across  the  land. 

The  startling  events  of  the  times  are  necessarily  con- 
nected with  our  story. 

For  the  truth  of  history  was  never  surpassed  by  fiction, 
only  in  the  imagination  of  weak  minds. 

Sixty  miles  above  Louisville,  on  the  southern  bank  of 
the  Ohio,  stood  a  round-log  cabin,  surrounded  by  heavy  tim- 
ber. In  the  background  a  towering  clift  reared  its  green- 
covered  brow  to  overlook  the  valley — the  woodland  scenery 
seemed  to  say:  "here  is  the  home  of  the  wolf  and  the  wild 
cat,"  and  it  gave  the  place  a  lonesome  look. 


PEN    PICTURES.  19 

A  passing  neighbor  had  informed  the  inmates  of  the  cabin 
that  a  saw-mill  was  coming  up  the  river.  Two  barefooted 
boys  stood  in  the  front  yard,  and  looked  with  hopeful  eyes 
upon  the  wonder  of  the  passing  steamer.  The  gentle  breeze 
that  waved  their  infant  locks,  whispered  the  coming  storms 
of  the  future. 

It  was  the  Washington,  built  by  Captain  Shreve,  and 
was  subsequently  seized  for  navigating  the  western  waters. 
The  case  was  carried  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States,  where  the  exclusive  pretensions  of  the  monopolist  to 
navigate  the  western  waters  by  steam  were  denied. 

Some  of  the  old  heroes  who  battled  for  the  free  naviga- 
tion  of  the  western  waters,  left  a  request  to  be  buried  on  the 
bank  of  the  beautiful  Ohio,  where  the  merry  song  of  the 
boatman  would  break  the  stillness  of  their  resting  place,  and 
the  music  of  the  steam  engine  soothe  their  departed  spirits. 
Well  have  their  desires  been  fulfilled. 

Some  long  and  tedious  summers  had  passed  away — not- 
withstanding a  congressman  had  declared  in  Washington  City, 
"  that  the  Ohio  river  was  frozen  over  six  months  in  the  year, 
and  the  balance  of  the  season  would  not  float  a  tad-pole." 

The  music  of  the  steam  engine  or  the  Ohio  and  Missis- 
sippi rivers,  had  given  rise  tounforseen  industries.  Don  and 
Dan  Carlo,  standing  in  the  half-way  house  between  boyhood 
and  manhood,  without  inheriting  a  red  cent  in  the  wide 
world  with  which  to  commence  the  battle  of  life,  grown  up 
in  poverty,  surrounded  by  family  pride,  with  willing  hearts 
and  strong  arms,  were  ready  to  undertake  any  enterprise 
that  glimmering  fortune  might  poin-t  out. 

A  relative  on  the  mother's  side  held  the  title  papers,  signed 
by  the  Governor  of  Arkansas,  to  a  tract  01  land  on  the  Mis- 
sissippi river,  who  ga^e  the  privilege  to  Don  and  Dan  Carlo, 
to  establish  a  wood  yard  on  said  premises. 

For  steam  navigation  was  not  only  a  fixed  fact,  but   the 


20  PEN    PICTURES, 

boats  were  much  improved — many  of  them  taking  on  board 
twenty-four  cords  of  wood  at  one  landing 

"Competition  is  the  life  of  trade,"  and  several  enterpris- 
ing woodmen  were  established  in  this  locality ;  and  when  a 
passing  steamboat  would  ring  lor  wood  after  night,  all  anxious 
to  show  the  first  light,  the  woodmen,  torch  in  hand,  would 
run  out  of  their  cabins  in  their  shirt-tails.  From  this  circum- 
stance, that  locality  was  known  by  the  boatmen  from  Pitts- 
burgh to  New  Orleans,  by  the  homely  appellation  of  the  Shirt- 
Tail  Bend. 

That,  like  many  other  localities  on  the  Mississippi,  was 
first  settled  by  wood-choppers.  The  infantile  state  of  society 
in  those  neighborhoods  can  be  better  imagined  than  de- 
scribed. The  nearest  seat  of  justice  was  forty  miles,  and  the 
highest  standard  of  jurisprudence  was  a  third-rate  county 
court  lawyer.  Liltle  Rock  was,  perhaps,  the  only  point  in 
the  State  that  could  boast  of  being  the  residence  of  a  print- 
ers' devil,  or  the  author  of  a  dime  novel. 

The  wood-cutters  were  the  representative  men  of  the 
neighborhood.  The  Gospel  of  peace  and  good  will  to  men 
was,  perhaps,  slightly  preserved  in  the  memories  of  some 
who  had  been  raised  in  a  more  advanced  state  of  civilization „ 
The  passing  days  were  numbered  by  making  a  mark  on  the 
day-board  every  morning,  and  a  long  mark  every  seventh  day, 
for  the  Sabbath. 

Quarrels  concerning  property  seldom,  if  ever,  occurred. 
The  criminal  code  or  personal  difficulties  were  generally  set- 
tled according  to  the  law  of  the  early  boatmen,  which  was  : 
if  two  men  had  a  personal  quarrel,  they  were  required  to 
choose  seconds,  go  ashore  and  fight  it  out.  The  seconds 
were  chosen  to  see  that  no  weapons  were  used  and  no  foul 
holds  were  taken.  It  was  a  trial  of  physical  strength,  and 
when  the  vanquished  party  cried  ''enough!"  the  difficulty 
was  considered  settled. 


PEN    PICTURES.  21 

I  am  speaking  of  times  prior  to  the  inauguration  of  the 
Arkansas  Bowie  knife  and  pistol  Many  of  the  early  wood- 
cutters on  the  Mississippi  were  men  of  sterling  integrity. 
Don  Carlo  never  wrote  a  line  for  the  future  antiquarian  to 
ponder  over,  or  dreamed  that  he  was  transmitting  anything 
to  posterity ;  yet,  by  his  bold  and  noble  conduct,  he  stamped 
the  impress  of  his  character  upon  the  memories  of  all  who 
witnessed  the  blossom  of  society  in  the  woods  on  the  Missis- 
sippi river. 

Brindle  Bill  was  a  wood-chopper,  but  he  never  worked 
much  at  his  profession.  He  was  one  of  the  class  of  wood- 
cutters that  were  generally  termed  the  floating  part  of  the 
population.  This  class  were  employed  by  the  proprietors  of 
the  wood  yards,  to  cut  wood  by  the  cord — for  one  hundred 
cords  they  received  fifty  dollars. 

Brindle  Bill  was  five  feet  and  eight  inches  high,  with 
square  shoulders  and  as  strong  as  a  buffalo — and  although  he 
was  classed  with  the  floating  population,  he  had  been  in  that 
locality  for  more  than  a  year  and  was  a  shining  light  at  head- 
quarters. 

This  was  the  resort  of  all  who  claimed  to  be  fond  of  fun. 
It  was  an  old  cabin  that  was  built  by  some  early  backwoods- 
men, who  had  deserted  it  and  moved  on.  It  was  some  dis- 
tance from  the  river,  and  left  unoccupied  by  the  woodmen. 
Situated  in  the  edge  of  a  small  cane-brake,  a  large  quantity 
of  cane  had  been  cut  to  clear  the  way,  and  piled  against  the 
west  end  of  the  cabin. 

Here  the  jug  was  kept.  These  men  had  no  brilliantly 
lighted  saloon  for  a  resort,  but  human  nature  is  the  same  un- 
der all  circumstances.  In  this  locality,  like  all  others,  there 
were  two  parties,  or  two  spirits — one  was  to  improve  the 
other  to  degrade  society.  As  we  have  said,  Brindle  Bill  was 
the  leading  spirit  of  his  party.  He  was  always  ready  to  fill 
the  jug  and  play  a  social  game  at  cards — he  only  bet,  as  he 


22  PE*    PICTURES. 

said,  to  keep  up  a  little  interest  in  the  game.  Brindle  Bill 
always  had  a  pocket  full  of  money.  He  loved  to  tell  long 
stories,  and  frequently  related  previous  combats,  in  which  he 
came  off  the  victor.  As  the  test  of  manhood  was  physical 
strength,  Brindle  Bill  was  the  bully  of  the  settlement — no  one 
desired  a  personal  quarrel  with  him. 

Some  said  that  S.  S.  Simon,  the  proprietor  of  a  wood 
yard,  sided  with  Brindle  Bill — whether  this  was  true  or  not 
— Simon's  wife,  was  one  of  the  leading  spirits  of  the  other 
party.  She  was  a  woman  of  few  words,  but  the  force  of  her 
character  was  felt  by  the  whole  neighborhood. 

Cord,  or  steam  wood,  was  the  principal  source  of  revenue, 
and  large  quantities  were  annually  sold,  thousands  of  dollars 
come  into  Shirt-tail  Bend,  but  there  was  no  improvement, 
they  had  no  school  house,  and  a  church  and  post-office  were 
not  thought  of. 

Don  and  Dan  Carlo,  proprietors  of  one  of  the  principal 
wood  yards,  dear  brothers,  were  animated  by  different  spirits. 
Dan  was  a  fast  friend  of  Brindle  Bill.  Don  was  a  silent  spirit 
of  the  other  party.  They  were  equal  partners  in  the  wood 
b  siness,  and  when  a  sale  was  made,  Dan  received  half  of 
he  money,  but  it  so  happened  that  all  expenses  were  pai#d 
by  Don.  This  had  been  the  situation  for  a  long  time.  In 
vain  Don  appealed  to  Dan — tried  to  arouse  family  pride. 
The  two  kept  bachelors  hall,  and  many  times,  through  the 
long  vigils  of  the  night,  Don  laid  before  Dan,  their  situation, 
scoffed  at  by  a  la-ge  family  relationship,  because  they  were 
poor,  and  then  representing  that  they  must  fail  in  their  bus- 
iness, because  half  the  money  received  would  not  pay 
expenses,  to  all  of  this,  Dan  would  promise  to  reform — and 
promise,  and  promise,  and  pro?nise,  but  would  always  fail. 

In  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  after  a  large  sale  of  wood 
had  been  made,  at  the  Carlo  wood  yard,  S.  S.  Simon,  Dan 
Carlo,  Sundown  Hill  and  Brindle  Bill  were  seen  making  their 


PEN    PICTURES.  23 

way  slowly  to  headquarters.     Simon's  wife  remarked  to  a  per- 
son near  her,  "  Dan's  money  will  go  to-night." 

Don  Carlo  was  seen  sitting  alone  in  his  cabin,  his  hand 
upon  his  forehead,  his  eyes  gazing  intently  upon  the  floor. 
The  burning  coal  upon  the  hearthstone  glimmered  in  the 
glory  of  its  element;  the  voice  of  the  wild  ducks  upon  the 
river  shore,  told  the  deep,  dead  ho'^r  of  the  night,  and  aroused 
Don  Carlo  from  his  reverie — the  sun  had  crossed  the  meridian 
on  the  other  side  of  the  globe,  and  no  sound  of  the  foot-fall 
of  his  absent  brother  disturbed  the  stillness  of  the  hour. 

Don  Carlo  picked  up  a  pamphlet  that  lay  upon  the  table 
and  turned  over  the  leaves,  it  was  the  confession  of  Alonzo 
Phelps. 

He  said  mentally,  Phelps  was  a  very  bad,  but  a  very 
brave  man.  He  defied  the  city  of  Vicksburg,  defied  the 
law,  and  the  State  of  Mississippi. 

He  thought  of  the  generations  before  him,  and  family 
pride  filled  his  veins  with  warm  blood.  Don  Carlo  was  ready 
to  face  Brindle  Bill,  or  the  Brindle  Devil,  in  defence  of  his 
rights,  and  he  started  for  headquarters. 

Cool,  calculating  woman  —  Simon's  wife,  the  patient 
watcher  for  her  absent  husband,  saw  Don  Carlo  wending  his 
way  through  the  stillness  of  the  night,  to  headquarters.  Her 
keen,  woman's  wit,  told  her  there  was  trouble  ahead. 

Silently,  and  unseen,  with  fire  brand  in  hand,  (this  was 
before  friction  matches  were  thought  of,)  she  left  the  Simon 
cabin. 

When  Don  Carlo  arrived  at  headquarters,  the  door  and 
window  was  fastened  on  the  inside,  a  faint  light  from  a  tallow- 
candle,  that  glimmered  through  the  cracks  of  the  cabin9 
whispered  the  deep  laid  scheme  of  the  inmates— S.  S.  Simon, 
Sundown  Hill  and  Brindle  Bill  were  banded  together  to 
swindle  Dan  Carlo.  Don  Carlo  went  there  to  enter  that 
cabin.     Quick  as  thought  he  clambered  up  the  corner  of  the 


2-4  PEN  PICTURES. 

jutting  logs,  and  passed  down  the  chimney.  In  front  of  him, 
around  a  square  table,  sat  four  men.  On  the  center  of  the 
table  a  large  pile  of  shining  silver  dollars,  enlivened  the  light 
of  the  tallow  candle. 

The  players  looked  up  in  amazement ;  had  an  angel  from 
heaven  dropped  among  them,  they  would  not  have  been 
more  astonished.  While  the  men  sat,  between  doubt  and 
fear,  Don  Carlo  raked  the  money  from  the  table,  and  put 
it  in  his  pocket. 

Brindle  Bill  was  the  first  to  rise  from  the  table,  he  held 
up  four  cards,  claimed  the  money,  said  he  was  personalty 
insulted  by  Don  Carlo,  and  by  G — d  he  should  fight  it 
out.  He  chose  S.  S.  Simon  for  his  second,  and  boastingly 
prepared  for  the  contest. 

Don  Carlo  used  no  words,  nor  did  he  choose  any  second ; 
Sundown  Hill  and  Dan  Carlo  looked  at  each  other,  and  at 
S.  S.  Simon,  with  a  look  that  said,  we  stand  by  Don  Carlo. 

S.    S.  Simon  hallooed  fair  play,  and  Brindle  Bill  pitched, 
in.     Brindle   Bill  was  the  stoutest  man,  Don  Carlo  the  most 
active,  the  contest  was  sharp,  and  very  doubtful,  notwithstand- 
ing the  boasting  character  of  Brindle  Bill,  true  pluck  was  upon 
the  side  of  Don  Carlo.     At  this  critical  moment,  Simon's 
wife   appeared  upon   the  scene  of  action,    the  door  of  the 
cabin  was  fast,    Simon  was  on  the  inside.     She  could  hear 
the  blows   and  smell  the  blood,  for  a  lucky  lick  from  Don 
had  started  the  blood  from  Brindle  Bill's  nose,  but  could  not 
see  or  know  the  combatants.     Quick  as  thought,  she  applied 
the  fire-brand  to  the  cane  pile,  on  the  west  end  of  the  cabin. 
A  strong  breeze  from  the  west    soon  enveloped  the  roof  of 
the  cabin  in  flames.     The  men  rushed  out  into  the  open  air 
much  frightened.     Simon's  wife  grabbed  her  husband    and 
dragged  him  toward  their  home,  with  loud  and  eloquent  cries 
of  sha?ne.     The   contest  was  ended,  and  Don  Carlo  had  the 
money.     Brindle  Bill  appealed  to  the  men  of  his  party  to  see 


PEN    PICTURES.  25 

that  he  should  have  fair  play.  His  appeals  were  all  in  vain, 
the  fear  of  him  was  broken,  and  he  had  no  great  desire  to 
renew  the  contest.  Seeing  no  hope  in  the  future,  Brindle 
Bill  left  the  new  settlement.  And  Don  Carlo  was  justly 
entitled  to  the  appellation  of  the  Hero  of  Shirt- Tail  Bend. 

Society  was  started  upon  the  up-grade.  Some  planters 
commenced  to  settle  in  the  Bend,  little  towns  were  now  spring- 
ing up  on  the  Mississippi,  and  Dan  Carlo  out  of  his  element, 
made  it  convenient  to  visit  the  towns.  A  new  era  had  dawned 
upon  the  criminal  code  in  Arkansas — the  pistol  and  the  bowie 
knife,  of  which  writers  of  fiction  have  portrayed  in  startling 
colors.  Shortly  after  these  events,  Dan  Carlo  was  found  dead 
in  a  saloon. 

It  was  in  April,  late  one  Saturday  evening,  the  steam- 
boat "  Red  Stone"  blew  up  sixty-five  miles  above  Louisville, 
while  landing  on  the  Kentucky  shore;  the  boat  burned  to  the 
water  edge,  and  many  lives  were  lost.  Men  returning  from 
the  South,  to  the  homes  of  their  nativity,  were  consigned  to 
the  placid  waters  of  the  Ohio  for  a  resting  place,  others  were 
mangled  and  torn,  left  to  eke  out  a  weary  life,  without  some 
of  their  limbs.  The  scene  upon  the  shore  was  heart-render- 
ing above  description.  The  body  of  one  poor  man  was  picked 
up  one-quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  boat,  in  a  corn  field,  every 
bone  in  his  body  was  broken,  and  its  fall  to  the  earth  made 
a  hole  in  the  ground,  eighteen  inches  deep.  How  high  he 
went  in  the  air  can  only  be  conjectured,  but  we  may  safely 
say  it  was  out  of  sight.  Several  were  seen  to  fall  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  river,  who  never  reached  the  shcre.  The  dead 
and  dying  were  gathered  up  and  carried  to  the  houses  nearest 
at  hand.  The  inhabitants  of  the  shore  had  gathered  for  three 
miles  up  and  down  the  river — all  classes  and  ages  were  seen 
pulling  pieces  of  the  wreck  and  struggling  persons  to  the  shorea 
Two  girls  or  half-grown  women  passed  by  me  walking  slowly 
upon  the  pebbled  shore,  gazing  into  the  water,  when  some 


26 


PEN  PICTURES. 


distance  from  me,  I  saw  one  of  them  rush  into  the  water  up 
to  her  arm-pits  and  drag  something  to  the  shore.  I  hastened 
to  the  spot,  and  the  girls  passed  on  toward  the  wreck.  Sev- 
eral men  were  carrying  the  apparently  lifeless  body  of  a  man 
upon  a  board  in  the  direction  of  the  half-way  castle  a  place 
of  deposit  for  the  dead  and  dying.  His  identity  was  ascer- 
tained by  some  papers  taken  from  his  pocket,  it  was — Don 
Carlo— the  "  Hero  of  Shirt-Tail  Bend." 


SCENE   THIRD  — THE   SEPARATED  SISTERS. 

On  the  stream  of  human  nature's  blood, 

Are  ups  and  downs  in  every  shape  and  form, 

Some  sail  gently  on  a  rising  flood, 

And  some  are  wrecked  in  a  tearful  storm. 

Tom  Fairfield  was  descended  from  one  of  the  best  fam- 
ilies in  Virginia.  Yet  he  was  animated  by  what  we  may  call 
a  restless  spirit.  He  ran  away  from  home  at  twelve  years  of 
age,  and  came  to  Kentucky  with  a  family  of  emigrants,  who 
settled  near  Boone  Station,  in  1791.  Kentucky,  until  after 
Wayne's  treaty,  in  1795,  was  continually  exposed  to  incur- 
sions from  the  Indians ;  yet,  before  Tom's  day  of  manhood, 
the  bloody  contest  between  the  white  and  the  red  men  had 
terminated  on  the  virgin  soil  of  the  new-born  State — Ken- 
tucky was  admitted  into  the  Union  in  1792.  Yet  the  heroic 
struggles  with  the  Indians  by  the  early  settlers  were  fresh  in 
the  memories  of  all.  Prior  to  the  settlement  of  Kentucky 
by  white  men,  the  Southern  and  Northwestern  tribes  of  In- 
dians were  in  the  habit  of  hunting  here  as  upon  neutral 
ground.  No  wigwam  had  been  erected,  but  it  was  claimed 
by  all  as  a  hunting  ground.  The  frequent  and  fierce  con- 
flicts that  occurred  upon  the  meeting  of  the  Indian  tribes,  to- 
gether with  conflicts  with  white  men,  caused  the  Indians  first 
to  call  Kentucky  "The  dark  and  bloody  ground"  At  no  point 
on  the  American  Continent  had  the  hatred  between  the  two 
races  risen  to  a  higher  point.     Long  after  the  peace  between 


28  PEN  PICTURES. 

England  and  America,  and  the  close  of  the  war  of  American 
Independence,  the  conflict  between  the  white  and  red  men 
in  Kentucky  was  a  war  of  extermination.  The  quiet  cabin 
of  the  white  man  was  frequently  entered,  under  cover  of 
night,  by  some  roving  band  of  Indians,  and  women  and  child- 
ren tomahawked  in  cold  blood.  White  men  when  taken  by 
them,  whether  in  the  field  at  work,  or  behind  a  tree,  watching 
their  opportunity  to  shoot  an  Indian,  were  taken  off  to  their 
towns  in  Ohio  and  burned  at  the  stake,  or  tortured  to  death 
in  a  most  cruel  manner.  No  wonder  the  early  settler  in 
Kentucky  swore  eternal  vengeance  against  the  Indian  who 
crossed  his  path,  whether  in  peace  01  war.  In  a  land  where 
the  white  woman  has  cleaved  the  skull  of  the  red  warrior 
with  an  ax,  who  attempted  to  enter  her  cabin  rifle  in  hand, 
from  whence  all  but  her  had  fled — who  shall  refuse  to  re- 
member the  heroines  of  the  early  settlers,  and  the  historic 
name  of  the  dark  and  bloody  ground. 

When  Tom  Fairfield  arrived  at  manhood,  the  golden  wing 
of  peace  was  spread  over  the  new-born  State,  from  the  Cum- 
berland Mountains  to  the  Ohio  river. 

A  tract  of  land  embracing  a  beautiful  undulating  surface, 
with  a  black  and  fertile-  soil,  the  forest  gr.owth  of  which  is 
black  walnut,  cherry,  honey  locust,  buckeye,  pawpaw,  sugar 
maple,  elm,  ash,  hawthorn,  coffee-tree  and  yellow  poplar, 
entwined  with  grape  vines  of  large  size,  which  has  been  de- 
nominated the  garden  of  Kentucky. 

Many  of  the  phrases,  familiar  to  our  grandfathers,  have 
become  obsolete,  such  as  latch-string,  bee-crossing,  hunting- 
shirt,  log-rolling,  hominy-block,  pack-horse  and  pack-saddle. 

While  many  of  their  customs  have  been  entirely  forgo  - 
ten,  or  never  known,  by  the  present  generation,  a  history  of 
some  of  the  events  of  the  time  cannot  fail  to  be  interesting. 

Tom  had  learned  to  read  and  write  in  Virginia,  and  this 
accomplishment  frequently  gave  him  employment,  for  many 


PEN    PICTURES.  29 

of  the  early  settlers  were  glad  to  pay  him  for  "his  assistance 
in  this  line  of  business,  and  it  suited  Tom  to  change  his  place 
of  abode  and  character  of  employment.  He  was  industrious, 
but  never  firm  in  his  purpose,  frequently  commencing  an 
enterprise,  but  always  ready  to  abandon  it  in  the  middle. 

Socially  he  was  a  great  favorite  at  all  wedding  parties, 
and  weddings  were  of  frequent  occurrence  about  this  time, 

For  while  Kentucky  was  over-run  with  Indian^  the 
female  portion  of  families  wer-e  slow  to  immigrate  to  the  scene 
of  such  bloody  strife,  and  many  of  the  early  planters  were 
young  men,  who  found  themselves  bachelors  for  the  want  of 
female  association.  But  with  the  influx  of  population  now 
taking  place,  females  largely  predominated. 

A  wedding  in  Kentucky  at  that  time  was  a  day  of  re- 
joicing, and  the  young  men  in  hearing  distance  all  considered 
themselves  invited.  A  fine  dinner  or  supper  was  always 
prepared;  of  wine  they  had  none,  but  distilling  corn  whisky 
was  among  the  first  industries  of  Kentucky,  and  at  every 
wedding  there  was  a  custom  called  running  for  the  bottle ',  which 
was  of  course  a  bottle  of  whisky. 

The  father  of  the  bride,  or  some  male  acquaintance  at 
the  house  of  the  bride  —  about  one  hour  previous  to  the  time 
announced  for  the  ceremony — would  stand  on  the  door-step 
with  the  bottle  in  his  hand,  ready  to  deliver  it  to  the  first 
young  man  that  approached  him.  At  the  appointed  time  the 
young  men  of  the  neighborhood  would  rendezvous  at  a  point 
agreed  upon,  and  when  all  were  ready  and  the  word^?  given, 
the  race  for  the  bottle,  on  fine  horses,  to  the  number  of  fif- 
teen or  twenty,  was  amusing  and  highly  exciting.  Tom  had 
the  good  fortune  to  be  the  owner  of  a  fleet  horse — to  own  a 
fine  horse  and  saddle  was  ever  the  pride  and  ambition  of  the 
young  Kentuckian — and  he  won  many  bottles  ;  but  the  end 
proved  that  it  was  bad  instead  of  good  luck,  for  Tom  sub- 
sequently became  too  fond  of  the  bottle. 


BO  PEN    PICTURES. 

Tom  was  young  and  hopeful,  far  away  from  his  kindred, 
and  he  also  aiarried  the  daughter  of  an  Englishman,  who 
was  not  so  fortunate  as  to  be  the  owner  of  any  portion  of 
the  virgin  soil,  but  distinguished  himself  as  a  fine  gardener, 
and  all  the  inheritance  Tom  received  with  his  wife  was  a 
cart-load  of  gourds. 

You  laugh,  but  you  must  remember  that  a  few  pewter 
plates  and  cob-handle  knives  was  all  that  adorned  the  cup- 
boards of  some  cf  our  fathers,  and  gourds  of  different  size 
made  useful  vessels.  Coffee  was  not  much  in  use,  and  in  the 
dawn  of  the  Revolution  a  party  of  brave  Americans  had  thrown 
a  ship-load  of  tea  into  the  sea. 

Tom,  like  many  of  the  young  planters,  built  a  cabin  upon 
a  tract  of  land,  under  the  Henderson  claim,  as  purchased 
from  the  Cherokee  Indians,  which  claim  was  subsequently  set 
aside  by  the  State  of  Virginia. 

Tom,  as  we  have  said,  was  of  a  restless  disposition,  and 
from  a  planter  he  turned  to  be  a  boatman.  Leaving  his 
family  at  home  in  their  cabin,  he  engaged  to  make  a  trip  to 
Fort  Washington  (Cincinnati,  then  a  village)  on  a  keel-boat, 
descending  the  Kentucky  and  ascending  the  Ohio  rivers. 
On  this  trip  he  first  beheld  the  stupendous  precipices  on  the 
Kentucky  river,  where  the  banks  in  many  places  are  three 
hundred  feet  high,  of  solid  limestone,  and  the  beautiful  coun- 
try at  he  mouth  of  the  Kentucky,  on  the  Ohio  river. 

He  was  absent  from  home  three  months,  for  prior  to  steam 
navigation,  the  Ohio  had  been  navigated  by  keel  and  flat- 
bottom  boats  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  many  of  the  old 
boatmen  were  men  of  dissipated  habits — bad  school  for  Tom. 
When  he  returned  home  it  was  too  late  in  the  season  to  raise 
a  crop.  The  next  winter  was  long  and  cold.  Tom  and  his 
little  family  keenly  felt  the  grasp  of  poverty,  and  many 
times,  in  the  dead  hour  of  night,  when  the  cold  wind  made 
the   only  audible  sound  on  the    outside,  the  latch-string  of 


PEN    PICTURES,  31 

the  cabin  door  had  been  pulled  in,  and  the  fire  burned  down 
to  a  bed  of  coals,  Tom  and  his  wife  sat  quietly  and  sadly  by 
the  dim  light  of  a  tallow  candle,  and  told  the  stories  of  their 
families.  Tom  intended  at  some  future  time  to  return  to 
Virginia  and  claim  an  inheritance,  although,  as  he  said,  he 
was  not  the  eldest  son  of  his  father,  and  by  the  laws  of  Vir- 
ginia the  eldest  son  is  entitled  to  all  of  the  estate  in  land, 
which,  as  he  said,  caused  him  to  leave  home ;  but  from  other 
sources  he  hoped  in  the  future  to  reap  the  benefit  of  an  in- 
heritance. 

Tom's  wife,  in  her  turn,  told  the  story  of  her  ancestors 
in  the  old  country,  and  how  she  lived  in  hope  of  some  revival 
of  family  fortune,  which  by  the  discovery  of  the  necessary 
papers,  would  give  her  the  means  of  rising  above  the  cold 
grasp  of  poverty,  so  keenly  felt  by  them;  and  many  times 
through  the  long  nights  of  winter,  in  that  secret  chamber 
where  no  intruder  comes,  Tom  and  his  wife,  whom  he  always 
called  by  the  endearing  name  of  mother,  with  a  heart-felt 
desire  to  honor  his  infant  children,  had  many  long  and  in- 
teresting interviews  upon  the  subject  of  the  ups  and  downs  of 
family  fortune. 

The  joyous  days  of  spring  dawned  upon  the  little  house- 
hold, and  with  it  new  ideas  in  the  mind  of  Tom  Fairfield; 
it  was  to  become  a  preacher ;  why  not  ?  He  could  read — and 
must  according  to  the  philosophy  of  the  people  understand 
the  Scriptures.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  delinquency 
of  the  early  settlers  in  Kentucky,  they  were  devotedly  a  re- 
ligious people. 

Ministers  of  the  gospel  were  not  required  to  study  The- 
ology ;  to  be  able  to  read  was  the  only  accomplishment,  ex- 
cept the  call\  it  was  thought  indispensable  that  a  preacher 
should  have  a  divine  call. 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  ignorant  worship,  many  of  the 
early  preachers  in  Kentucky  were  men  of  sterling  piety,  and 


32 


PEN*    PICTURES. 


did  much  to  elevate  and  improve  the  rude  society  of  the 
backwoodsmen.  What  they  lacked  in  learning  they  made 
up  in  earnestness  and  a  strict  devotion  to  the  Master's  cause ; 
what  they  lacked  in  eloquence  they  made  up  in  force.  Some 
extracts  from  the  sermons  of  these  old  men  have  been  pre- 
served.    I  quote  from  one  handed  me  by  a  friend : 

"As  Mo-ses  lif-ted  up  the  ser-pent  in  the  wil-der-ness — 
ah  !  e-v-e-n  so  must  the  Son  of  M-a-n  be  lif-ted  up — ah  !  That 
who  so-e-v-e-r  look  up-on  him — ah !  m-a-y  not  p-e-r-i-s-h — 
ah  !  but  h-a-ve  e-v-e-r-1-a-sting  1-i-f-e — ah  !" 

Notwithstanding  this  halting  delivery,  these  old  men  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  refined  and  elegant  society  now  en- 
joyed in  Kentucky. 

Tom  Fairfield  wished  to  improve  his  fortune  and  posi- 
tion in  society — pay  for  preaching  was  small — but  the  many 
little  needs  of  a  family  frequently  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  preach- 
er's wife.  With  this  object  in  view,  and  waiting  for  the  call, 
Tom  and  his  wife  attended  all  the  meetings.  A  wonderful 
plmwmenon  occurred  about  this  time,  that  upset  all  of  Tom's 
calculations — it  was  called  the  Jerks.  It  was  principally  con- 
fined to  the  females — but  men  sometimes  were  victims  of  it. 

During  the  church  service,  and  generally  about  the  time 
the  preacher's  earnestness  had  warmed  the  congregation,  the 
jerks  would  set  in.  Some  one  in  the  congregation  would 
commence  throwing  the  head  and  upper  part  of  the  body 
backward  and  forward,  the  motion  would  gradually  in- 
crease, assuming  a  spasmodic  appearance,  until  all  discretion 
would  leave  the  person  attacked,  and  they  would  continue 
to  jerk  regardless  of  all  modesty,  until  they  jerked  themselves 
upon  the  floor. 

Tom  and  his  wife  one  day  attended  the  meeting  of  a 
sect,  then  called  the  ' '  New  Lights."  During  the  service  Tom's 
wife  was  attacked  with  the  jerks  \  the  motion  slow  at  first  be- 
came very  rapid,   her  combs  flew  among  the  congregation, 


PEN    PICTURES.  33 

and  her  long  black  hair  cracked  like  a  wagon  whip.  Tom 
was  very  much  frightened,  but  with  the  assistance  of  some 
friends  the  poor  woman  was  taken  home,  and  soon  became 
quiet.     Tom  never  attended  meeting  again. 

The  old  adage  that  bad  luck  never  comes  single-handed, 
was  now  setting  in  with  Tom.  Soon  after  this  event,  Tom 
returned  from  his  labor  one  cold,  wet  evening.  Mother,  as 
he  always  called  his  wife,  was  very  dull  and  stupid.  Tom 
had  attended  to  all  the  duties  of  the  little  household,  pulled 
in  the  latch-string  of  the  cabin  door,  covered  the  coals  on 
the  hearth  with  ashes — as  the  old  people  used  to  say,  to  keep 
the  seed  of  fire. 

In  the  morning  when  he  awakened,  his  faithful  wife, 
dear  mother,  as  he  called  her,  was  by  his  side,  cold  and  dead. 
With  three  little  daughters  in  the  cabin  and  nothing  else 
in  the  wide  world,  for  the  title  to  his  land  had  been  set  aside. 
Disheartened  with  his  misfortunes,  Tom,  with  his  little  daugh- 
ters, moved  to  the  Ohio  river. 

Port  William  was  the  name  given  to  the  first  settlement 
ever  made  at  the  mouth  of  the  Kentucky  river. 

Seventy  miles  above  Louisville  the  Kentucky  mingles  its 
water  with  the  Ohio  river,  the  land  on  the  east  side  of  the 
Kentucky  and  on  the  south  side  of  the  Ohio,  narrows  into  a 
sharp  point — the  water  is  deep  up  to  the  shore.  When  navi- 
gation first  commenced  this  point  was  the  keel-boat  landing, 
and  subsequently  the  steamboat  landing. 

Here,  Dave  Deminish  kept  a  saloon,  (then  called  a  gro- 
cery). One  room  sixteen  feet  square,  filled  with  cheap  John 
merchandise,  the  principal  article  for  sale  was  corn  whisky, 
distilled  in  the  upper  counties,  and  shipped  to  Port  William 
on  keel  boats, — this  article  was  afterwards  called  old  Bourbon. 
Port  William  was  blessed  with  the  O  !-be-joyful.  Red- 
head Sam  Sims  run  a  whisky  shop  in  connection  with  his 
tavern,  but  the  point,  or  landing  was  the  great  place  of  at- 

3 


34  PEN    PICTURES. 

traction,  here  idle  boatmen  were  always  ready  to  entertain 
idle   citizens.     Old  Brother   Demitt  owned  large   tracts  of 
land,  and  a  number  of  slaves,  and  of  course  he  was  a  leader 
in   society,  why  not  ?  he  was  a  member  of  the  church  if  he 
did- stand  on  the  street  corners,  tell  low  anecdotes,  and  drink 
whisky  all-day-long.     And  old  Arch  Wheataker  owned  slaves 
to  work  for  him,  and  he,  of  course,  could  ride  his  old  ball- 
face  sorrel  horse  to  Port  William,  drink  whisky   all  day  and 
run   old  Ball  home  at  night.     Late  in  December  one  dark 
night,  the  Angel  of  observation  was  looking  into  the  room  of 
Dave  Deminish.   A  tall  man  with  silver  gray  hair  was  pleading 
with  Dave  for  one  more  dram.     They   stood  by  the  counter 
alone,  and  it  was  late,  the  customers  had  all  gone  save  Tom 
Fairfield.     Tom  offered  to  pledge  his  coat  as  a  guarantee  for 
payment,  Dave  was  anxious  to  close  the  store  (as  he  called 
it),  and  he  said  mildly  as  he  laid  his  hand  softly  on  Tom's 
shoulder,  "Keep  your  coat  on,  Tom,"  and  handing  him  a 
glass  of  spoiled  beer,  affected   friendship.     In  attempting  to 
drink  the  beer  Tom  heaved.     Dave  was  insulted,  and  kicked 
hirn  out,  and  closed  the  door.     On  reeling  feet,  alone,  and 
in  the  dark,  Tom  departed.     In  the  middle  of  the  night  com- 
menced a  wonderful   snow  storm,  and  the  dawn  of  morning 
found  the   earth  covered  with  a  white  mantle  twenty-four 
inches  deep. 

The  ever  diligent  eye  of  the  Angel  of  observation  was 
peering  into  the  cabin  of  Tom  Fairfield,  two  miles  distant 
from  the  Poi?it,  and  one  mile  north  of  Brother  Demitts. 
Roxie,  the  eldest  daughter,  found  a  few  sticks  of  wood, 
which  happened  to  be  in  doors,  made  up  a  little  fire  and  was 
cooking  some  corn  cakes.  Rose  had  covered  Suza  with  a 
tattered  blanket,  and  wsas  rocking  her  in  a  trough.  The  cold 
wind  upon  the  outside  carried  away  the  inaudible  murmurs 
of  the  little  sisters. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  little  fire  had  burned 


PEN    PICTURES.  35 

out.  Rose  was  still  engaged  with  the  baby,  and  Roxie  pass- 
ed  the  time  between  childish  conversations  with  Rose  about 
the  deep  snow,  and  their  absent  father,  who  she  said  would 
get  the  snow  out  of  his  way  and  come  home  after  a  while, 
then  peeping  out  the  crack  of  the  door  to  watch  for  some 
one  passing.  Old  Father  Tearful  had  passed  the  cabin,  his 
face  and  head  wrapped  up  with  a  strap  of  sheepskin  to  ward 
off  the  cold,  and  he  did  not  hear  the  cries  of  Roxie  Fairfield. 
One  hour  later  Suza  was  crying  piteously  and  shivering  with 
the  cold. 

Roxie  said  firmly  to  Rose,  you  pet  and  coax  the  poor 
thing  and  I  will  go  to  Aunt  Katv's  and  get  some  one  to  come 
and,  and  get  us  some  wood,  making  a  great  effort  to  conceal 
a  half  suppressed  sob,  and  a  starting  tear.  Then  patting 
Rose  on  the  head  with  her  little  hand  said  coaxingly,  "Be 
good  to-to-the  baby,  and  I'll  soon  be  back."  Leaving  both 
little  sisters  in  tears,  and  pulling  her  little  bonnet  close  'round 
her  ears,  she  left  the  cabin,  and  struggled  bravely  through 
the  deep  snow;  fortunately  when  she  gained  the  track  of 
Father  Tearful' s  horse  she  had  less  difficulty.  The  old  man 
was  riding  a  Conestoga  horse  whose  feet  and  legs,  from  their 
large  size,  made  quite  an  opening  in  the  snow. 

The  Angel  eye  of  observation  peering  into  the  east  room 
of  Brother  Demitt's  house,  (he  lived  in  a  double  cabin  of 
hewn  logs,)  saw  Aunt  Katy  sittting  on  one  corner  of  the 
hearth-stone,  busily  plying  her  fingers  upon  a  half  finished 
stocking;  upon  the  other  corner  lay  a  large  dog;  stretched 
at  full  length  ;  half  way  between  the  two  sat  the  old  house-cat, 
eying  the  mastiff  and  the  mistress,  and  ready  to  retreat  from 
the  first  invader.  The  hickory  logs  in  the  fire-place  were 
wrapping  each  other  with  the  red  flames  of  heat,  and  the  cold 
wind  rushing  'round  the  corner  of  the  house  was  the  only 
sound  that  disturbed  the  stillness  of  the  hour. 

With  a  sudden  push  the  door  swung  upon  its  hinges, 


36  PEN    PICTURES, 

and  Roxie  Fairfield,  shivering  with  the  cold,  appeared  upon 
the  stage.  Aunt  Katy  threw  her  head  back,  and  looking 
under  her  specs,  straight  down  her  nose  at  the  little  intruder, 
said,  in  a  voice  half  mingled  with  astonishment,  "  Roxie 
Fairfield,  where  in  the  name  of  heaven  did  you  come  from  ?" 
Roxie,  nothing  abashed  by  the  question,  replied  in  a  plain- 
tive tone,  "  Daddy  didn't  come  home  all  night  nor  all  day — 
and — and  we're  'fraid  the  baby'll  freeze."  The  simple  narra- 
tive of  the  child  told  Aunt  Katy  the  whole  story.  She  knew 
Tom  Fairfield,  and  although  a  drunkard,  he  would  not  thus 
desert  his  children.  "  Come  to  the  fire,  child,"  said  Aunt 
Katy  in  a  milder  tone,  and  as  she  turned  to  the  back  d  or 
she  said,  mentally,  "dead,  and  covered  with  snow"  She  contin- 
ued, "Joe,  I  say,  Joe,  get  old  Ned  and  hitch  him  to  the 
wood  slide,  and  go  after  the  Fairfield  children — quick — call 
Dick  to  help  hitch  up."  Dick  was  an  old  negro  who  had 
the  gout  so  bad  in  his  left  foot  that  he  could  not  wear  a 
shoe,  and  that  foot  wrapped  up  in  a  saddle  blanket,  made  an 
impression  in  the  snow  about  the  size  of  an  elephant's  track. 

Roxie  made  a  start  to  return  as  she  came,  and  while 
Aunt  Katy  was  coaxing  and  persuading  her  to  wait  for  the 
slide,  Joe,  a  colored  boy,  and  old  Ned  were  gotten  ready  for 
the  venture.  Dick,  by  Aunt  Katy's  directions,  had  thrown 
a  straw  bed  upon  the  slide,  and  bearing  his  weight  upon  his 
right  foot,  he  caught  Roxie  by  the  arms  and  carefully  placed 
her  upon  it. 

Joe,  as  he  held  the  rope-reins  in  one  hand  and  a  long 
switch  in  the  other,  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  face  of 
the  little  heroine,  all  mingled  with  doubt  and  fear,  saying  in 
a  harsh  tone,  ' '  keep  yourself  in  the  middle  of  the  slide, 
puss,  for  I'm  gwine  to  drive  like  litenin'." 

Aunt  Katy  stood  in  the  cold  door  gazing  at  the  running 
horse  and  slide  until  they  were  out  of  sight,  and  then  turning 
to  Dick  who,  standing  by  the  chimney,  was  holding  his  left 


PEN    PICTURES.  37 

foot  close  to  the  coals,  said,  "Tom  Fairfield  is  dead  and 
under  the  snow,  poor  soul !  and  them  children  will  have  to 
be  raised,  and  I'll  bet  the  nittin'  of  five  pair  of  stockins  that 
old  Demitt  will  try  to  poke  one  of  'em  on  me." 

Joe  soon  returned  with  the  precious  charge.  He  had 
Suza,  the  baby,  in  her  rocking  trough,  well  wrapped  up  in 
the  old  blanket  and  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  slide,  with 
Roxie  seated  on  one  side  and  Rose  on  the  other.  The  slide 
had  no  shafts  by  which  the  old  horse  could  hold  it  back ;  it 
was  Dick's  office  to  hold  back  with  a  rope  when  drawing 
wood,  but  he  was  too  slow  for  this  trip,  and  Joe's  long  switch 
served  to  keep  old  Ned  ahead  of  the  slide  when  traveling 
down  hill. 

A  large  fire  and  a  warm  room,  with  Aunt  Katy's  pacify- 
ing tones  of  voice,  soon  made  the  little  sisters  comparatively 
happy ;  she  promised  them  that  daddy  would  soon  return. 

The  news  soon  spread  through  the  neighborhood,  and 
every  one  who  knew  Tom  Fairfield  solemnly  testified  that  he 
would  not  desert  his  children;  the  irresistible  conclusion 
was  that  while  intoxicated  he  was  frozen,  and  that  he  lay 
dead  under  the  snow. 

A  council  of  the  settlers,  (for  all  were  considered  neigh- 
bors for  ten  miles  'round,)  was  called,  over  which  Brother 
Demitt  presided.  Aunt  Katy,  as  the  nearest  neighbor  and 
first  benefactress,  claimed  the  pre-emption  right  to  the  first 
choice,  which  was  of  course  granted.  Roxie,  the  eldest, 
was  large  enough  to  perform  some  service  in  a  family,  and 
Rose  would  soon  be ;  Suza,  the  baby,  was  the  trouble. 
Aunt  Katy  was  called  upon  to  take  her  choice  before  other 
preliminaries  could  be  settled. 

Suza,  the  baby,  with  her  bright  little  eyes,  red  cheeks 
and  proud  efforts,  to  stand  alone,  had  won  Aunt  Katy's 
affections,  and  she,  without  any  persuasion  on  the  part  of 


33  PEN    PICTURES. 

old  Demitt,  emphatically  declared  that  Suza  should  never 
leave  her  house  until  she  left  it  as  a  free  woman. 

Mrs.  Evaline  Estep  and  Aunt  Fillis  Foster  were  the  con- 
tending candidates  for  Rose  and  Roxie. 

Brother  Demitt  decided  that  Aunt  Fillis  should  take 
Roxie,  and  Mrs.  Estep  should  be  foster  mother  to  Rose,  with 
all  the  effects  left  in  the  Fairfield  cabin. 

These  ladies  lived  four  miles  from  the  Demitt  house,  in 
different  directions.  With  much  persuasion  and  kind  treat- 
ment they  bundled  up  the  precious  little  charges  and  de- 
parted. 

While  the  Angel  of  sorrow  hovered  'round  the  little 
hearts  of  the  deparated  sisters. 


w 


SCENE    FOURTH  — ROXIE    DAYMOX    AND    ROSE 

SIMON. 

The  road  of  life  is  light  and  daik, 
Each  journeyman  will  make  his  mark; 
The  mark  is  seen  by  all  behind. 
Excepting  those  who  go  stark  blind. 
Men  for  women  mark  out  the  way, 
In  spite  of  all  the  rib  can  say ; 
But  when  the  way  is  rough  and  hard. 
The  woman's  eye  will  come  to  guard 
The  footsteps  of  her  liege  and  lord, 
With  gentle  tone  and  loving  word, 

Since  the  curtain  fell  upon  the  closing  sentence  in  the 
last  scene,  many  long  and  tedious  seasons  have  passed  away. 

The  placid  waters  of  the  beautiful  Ohio  have  long  since 
been  disturbed  by  steam  navigation ;  and  the  music  of  the 
steam  engine  echoing  from  the  river  hills  have  alarmed  the 
bat  and  the  owl,  and  broke  the  solitude  around  the  graves  of 
many  of  the  first  settlers.  Many  old  associations  have  lived 
and  died.  The  infant  images  of  the  early  settlers  are  men 
and  women.  In  the  order  of  time  Roxie  Fairfield,  the  hero- 
ine of  the  snow  storm,  and  Aunt  Fillis  Foster,  claim  our 
attention. 

With  a  few  back  glances  at  girlhood,  we  hasten  on  to 
her  womanhood.  Aunt  Fillis  permitted  Roxie  to  attend  a 
country  school  a  few  months  in  each  year.  The  school  house 
was  built  of  round  logs,  was  twenty  feet  square,  with  one  log 


40  PEN    PICTURES. 

left  out  on  the  south  side  for  a  window.  The  seats  were 
made  of  slabs  from  the  drift  wood  on  the  Ohio  River,  (the 
first  cut  from  the  log,  one  side  flat,  the  other  having  the  shape 
of  the  log,  rounding) ;  holes  were  bored  in  the  slabs  and  pins 
eighteen  inches  long  inserted  for  legs.  These  benches  were 
set  against  the  wall  of  t'.ie  room,  and  the  pupils  arranged 
sitting  in  rows  around  the  room.  In  the  center  sat  the  teacher 
by  a  little  square  table,  with  a  switch  long  enough  to  reach 
any  pupil  in  the  house  without  rising  from  his  seat.  And 
thus  the  heroine  of  the  snow  storm  received  the  rudiments  of 
an  education,  as  she  grew  to  womanhood. 

Roxie  was  obedient,  tidy — and  twenty,  and  like  all  girls 
of  her  class,  had  a  lover.  Aunt  Fillis  said  Roxie  kept  every- 
thing about  the  house  in  the  right  place,  and  was  always  in 
the  right  place  herself;  she  said  more,  she  could  not  keep 
house  without  her.  By  what  spirit  Aunt  Fillis  was  animated 
we  shall  not  undertake  to  say,  but  she  forbade  Roxie's  lover 
the  prerogative  of  her  premises. 

Roxie's  family  blood  could  never  submit  to  slavery,  and 
she  ran  away  with  her  lover,  was  married  according  to  the 
common  law,  which  recognizes  man  and  wife  as  one,  and  the 
man  is  that  one. 

They  went  to  Louisville,  and  the  reader  has  already 
been  introduced  to  the  womanhood  of  Roxie  Fairfield  in  the 
person  of  Daymon's  wife. 

The  reader  is  referred  to  the  closing  sentence  of  Scene 
First.  Daymon  was  granted  a  new  trial,  which  never  came 
off,  and  the  young  couple  left  Louisville  and  went  to  Chicago, 
Illinois.  Roxie  had  been  concealed  by  a  female  friend,  and 
only  learned  the  fate  of  Daymon  a  few  minutes  before  she 
entered  the  court  room.  Daymon  resolved  to  reform,  for 
when  future  hope  departed,  and  all  but  life  had  fled,  the 
faithful  Roxie  rose  like  a  spirit  from  the  dead  to  come  and 
stand  by  him. 


PEN    PICTURES.  ^* 


Daymen  and  Roxie  left  Louisville  without  any  intima- 
tion of  their  destination  to  any  one,  without  anything  to  pay 
expenses,  and  nothing  but  their  wearing  apparel,  both  re- 
solved to  work,  for  the  sun  shone  as  brightly  upon  them  as 
it  did  upon  any  man  and  woman  in  the  world. 

As  a  day  laborer  Daymon  worked  in  and  around  the  in- 
fant city,  as  ignorant  of  the  bright  future  as  the  wild  ducks 
that  hovered  'round  the  shores  of  the  lake. 

It  is  said  that  P.  J.  Marquette,  a  French  missionary  from 
Canada  was  the  first  white  man  that  settled  on  the  spot  where 
Chicago  now  stands.  This  was  before  the  war  of  the  Revo- 
lution,  and  his  residence  was  temporary. 

Manv  years  afterward  a  negro  from  San  Domingo  made 
some  improvements  at  the  same  place;  but  John  Kmzie  is 
generally  regarded  as  the  first  settler  at  Chicago,  for  he  made 
a  permanent  home  there  in  1804.  For  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury the  village  had  less  than  one  hundred  inhabitants.  A 
wild  onion  that  grew  there,  called  by  the  Indians  Chikago, 
gave  the  name  to  the  city. 

After  a  few  years  of  hard  labor  and  strict  economy,  a 
land-holder  was  indebted  to  Daymon  the  sum  of  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars.  Daymon  wished  to  collect  his  dues 
and  emigrate  farther  west.  By  the  persuasion  of  Roxie  he 
was  induced  to  accept  a  deed  to  fifteen  acres  of  land.  In  a 
short  time  he  sold  one  acre  for  more  than  the  cost  of  the 
whole  tract,  and  was  soon  selling  by  the  foot  instead  of  the 
acre.     The  unparalleled  growth  of  the  city  made  Daymon 

rich  in  spite  of  himself. 

The  ever  wakeful  eye  of  the  Angel  of  observation  is 
peering  into  the  parlor  of  the  Daymon  palace,  to  see  Roxie 
surrounded  with  all  the  luxuries  of  furniture,  sitting  by  an 
ornamented  table,  upon  which  lay  gilt-edged  paper;  in  the 
center  of  the  table  sat  a  pearl  ink-stand  and  a  glass  ornament 
set  with  variegated  colors.     Roxie's  forehead  rested  upon  the 


42  PEN    PICTURES. 

palm  of  her  left  hand,  elbow  on  the  table.  Profound  reflec- 
tions are  passing  through  her  brain ;  they  carry  her  back  to 
the  days  of  her  childhood.  Oh,  how  she  loved  Suza ;  the 
little  bright  eyes  gazed  upon  her  and  the  red  lips  pronounced 
the  inaudible  sound,  " 'dear  sister."  "Yes,  I  will  write,"  said 
Roxie,  mentally.  She  takes  the  gold  pen  in  her  right  hand, 
adjusting  the  paper  with  her  left,  she  paused  to  thank  from 
the  bdttom  of  her  heart  old  Ben  Robertson,  who  in  the  coun- 
try school  had  taught  her  the  art  of  penmanship.  Hush!  did 
the  hall  bell  ring  ?  In  a  few  minutes  a  servant  appeared  at 
the  door  and  announced  the  name  of  Aunt  Patsy  Perkins. 

"  Admit  Aunt  Patsy  —  tell  her  your  mistress  is  at  home," 
said  Roxie,  rising  from  the  table. 

Aunt  Patsy  Perkins  was  floating  upon  the  surface  of 
upper-tendom  in  Chicago.  She  understood  all  of  the  late 
styles ;  a  queen  in  the  drawing-room,  understood  the  art  pre- 
cisely of  entertaining  company;  the  grandest  ladies  in  the 
city  would  listen  to  the  council  of  Aunt  Patsy,  for  she  could 
talk  faster  and  more  of  it  than  any  woman  west  of  the  Alle- 
ghany Mountains. 

The  visitor  enters  the  room;  Roxie  offers  Aunt  Patsy 
an  easy  chair;  Aunt  Patsy  is  wiping  away  the  perspiration 
with  a  fancy  kerchief,  in  one  hand,  and  using  the  fan  with  the 
other.     When  seated  she  said  : 

"  I  must  rest  a  little,  for  I  nave  something  to  tell  you, 
and  I  will  tell  you  now  what  it  is  before  I  begin.  Old  Per- 
kins has  no  more  love  for  style  than  I  have  for  his  dratted  poor 
kin.  But  as  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  Perkins  received  a  letter 
from  Indiana,  stating  this  Cousin  Sally  wished  to  make  us  a 
visit.  She's  a  plain,  poor  girl,  that  knows  no  more  of  Style 
than  Perkins  does  of  a  woman's  comforts.  I'll  tell  you  what 
it  is,  Mrs.  Daymon,  if  she  does  come,  if  I  don't  make  it  hot 
for  old  Perkins,  it'll  be  because  I  can't  talk.  A  woman  has 
nothing  but  her  tongue,  and  while  I  live  I  will  use   mine."/ 


PEN  PICTURES.  43 

Then  pointing  her  index  finger  at  Roxie,  continued  :  "I  will 
tell  you  what  it  is  Mrs.  Daymon,  take  two  white  beans  out 
of  one  hull,  and  place  them  on  the  top  of  the  garden  fence, 
and  then  look  at  'em  across  the  garden,  and  if  you  can  tell 
which  one  is  the  largest,  you  can  seen  what  difference  there  is 
in  the  way  old  Perkins  hates  style  and  I  hate  his  dratted  poor 
kin.  What  wealthy  families  are  to  do  in  this  city,  God  only 
knows.  I  think  sometimes  old  Perkins  is  a  wooden  man,  for, 
with  all  my  style,  I  can  make  no  more  impression  on  h-i-m, 
than  I  can  upon  an  oak  stump,  Mrs.  Daymon.  What  if  he 
did  make  a  thousand  dollars  last  week,  when  he  wants  to 
stick  his  poor  kin  'round  me,  like  stumps  in  a  flower  garden." 

At  this  point  Roxie  ventured  to  say  a  word.  "Aunt 
Patsy,  I  thought  Jim  was  kinsfolk  on  your  side  of  the  house." 

"Yes,  but  honey,   I   am  good  to  Jim,   poor  soul,   he 
•knows  it,"  said  Aunt  Patsy  gravely,  and  then  she  paused. 

Jim  was  a  poor  boy,  eighteen  years  old,  and  the  son  of 
Aunt  Patsy's  dear  brother,  long  since  laid  under  the  dark 
green  sod  of  Indiana.  The  poor  boy,  hearing  of  the  wealth 
of  his  Aunt  Patsy,  had  come  to  Chicago  and  was  working  on 
the  streets,  poorly  clad. 

Aunt  Patsy  would  sometimes  give  him  a  few  dollars,  as 
you  would  throw  a  bone  to  a  dog,  requesting  him  at  the  same 
time  to  always  come  to  the  back  door,  and  never  be  about 
the  house  when  she  had  company. 

Aunt  Patsy  said  emphatically,  as  she  left  the  Daymon 
palace,  "I'll  tell  j  ou  what  it  is,  Mrs.  Daymon,  I'm  goin' 
home  to  study  human  nature,  and  if  I  don't  find  some  avenue 
to  reach  old  Perkin<=,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  insult  the  first 
one  of  his  dratted  poor  kin  that  sets  foot  in  my  house." 

After  Aunt  Patsy  left,  Roxie  thought  no  more  of  her 
letter  of  inquiry,  and  company  engaged  her  attention  for 
some  days  until  the  subject  passed  entirely  out  of  her  mind. 

Soon  after  these  events  Roxie  died  with  the  cholera — 


44 


PEN    PICTURES. 


leaving  an  only  daughter — and  was  buried  as  ignorant  of  the 
fate  of  her  sister  as  the  stone  that  now  stands  upon  her  grave. 

We  must  now  turn  back  more  than  a  decade,  which 
brings  us  to  the  burning  of  the  steamboat  Brandywine,  on 
the  Mississippi  river.  The  boat  was  heavily  freighted,  with 
a  large  number  of  passengers  on  board ;  the  origin  of  the 
fire  has  never  been  positively  known ;  it  was  late  in  the  nightr 
with  a  heavy  breeze  striking  the  boat  aft,  where  the  fire  oc- 
curred. In  a  short  time  all  on  board  was  in  confusion ;  the 
pilot,  from  the  confusion  of  the  moment,  or  the  lack  of  a 
proper  knowledge  of  the  river,  headed  the  boat  for  the  wrong 
shore,  and  she  ran  a-ground  on  a  deep  sand  bar  a  long  way 
from  shore  and  burned  to  the  waters'  edge;  between  the  two 
great  elements  of  fire  and  water  many  leaped  into  the  river 
and  were  drowned,  and  some  reached  the  shore  on  pieces  of 
the  wreck.  Among  those  fortunate  enough  to  reach  the 
shore  was  an  Englishman,  who  was  so  badly  injured  he  was 
unable  to  walk ;  by  the  more  fortunate  he  was  carried  to  the 
cabin  of  a  wood  cutter,  where  he  soon  after  died. 

When  he  fully  realized  the  situation  he  called  for  ink  and 
paper;  there  was  none  on  the  premises;  a  messenger  was 
dispatched  to  the  nearest  point  where  it  was  supposed  the 
articles  could  be  obtained,  but  he  was  too  late.  When  the 
last  moments  came  the  dying  man  made  the  following  state- 
ment: "  My  name  is  John  A.  Lasco.  I  have  traveled  for 
three  years  in  this  country  without  finding  the  slightest  trace 
of  the  object  of  my  search — an  only  and  a  dear  sister.  Her 
name  is  Susan  Lasco;  with  our  father  she  left  the  old  coun- 
try many  years  ago.  They  were  poor — the  family  fortune 
being  held  in  abeyance  by  the  loss  of  some  papers.  I  re- 
mained, but  our  father  gave  up  all  hope  and  emigrated  to 
America,  taking  Susan  with  him.  In  the  course  of  nature 
the  old  man  is  dead,  and  my  sister  Susan,  if  she  is  living,  is 
the  last,  or   soon  wih  be   the  last,   link  of  the  family.     I  am 


PEN   PICTURES.  45 

making  this  statement  as  my  last  will  and  testament.  Some 
years  ago  the  post-master  in  my  native  town  received  a  letter 
from  America  stating  that  by  the  confession  of  one,  Alonzo 
Phelps,  who  was  condemned  to  die,  that  there  was  a  bundle 
of  papers  concealed  in  a  certain  place  by  him  before  he  left 
the  country.  Search  was  made  and  the  papers  found  which 
gave  me  the  possession  of  the  family  estate.  The  letter  was 
subscribed  D.  C,  which  gave  a  poor  knowledge  of  the  writer. 
I  sold  the  property  and  emigrated  to  this  country  in  search 
of  my  sister;  I  have  had  poor  success.  She  probably  mar- 
ried, and  the  ceremony  changed  her  name,  and  I  fear  she  is 
hopelessly  lost  to  her  rights ;  her  name  was  Susan  Lasco — 
what  it  is  now,  God  only  knows.  But  to  Susan  Lasco,  and 
her  descendants,  I  will  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand  dollars, 
now  on  deposit  in  a  western  bank;  the  certificate  of  deposit 
names  the  bank ;  the  papers  are  wet  and  now  upon  my  per- 
sTDn  ;  the  money  in  my  pocket,  $i  10,  I  will  to  the  good  woman 
of  this  house — with  a  request  that  she  will  carefully  dry  and 
preserve  my  papers,  and  deliver  them  to  some  respectable 
lawyer  in  Memphis — at  this  point  the  speaker  was  breathing 
hard — his  tone  of  voice  almost  inaudible.  At  his  request, 
made  by  signs,  he  was  turned  over  and  died  in  a  few  moments 
without  any  further  directions. 

The  inmates  of  the  cabin,  besides  the  good  woman  of 
the  house,  were  only  a  few  wood  cutters,  among  whom  stood 
Brindle  Bill,  of  Shirt-Tail  Bend  notoriety.  Bill,  to  use  his 
own  language,  was  strap  d,  and  was  chopping  wood  at  this 
point  to  raise  a  little  money  upon  which  to  make  another 
start.  Many  years  had  passed  away  since  he  left  Shirt  Tail 
Bend.  He  had  been  three  times  set  on  shore,  from  steam- 
boats, for  playing  sharp  tricks  at  three  card  monte  upon 
passengers,  and  he  had  gone  to  work,  which  he  never  did 
until  he  was  entirely  out  of  money.  Brindle  Bill  left  the 
cabin,  ostensibly  to  go  to  work ;  but  he  sat  upon  the  log,  rub- 


46  PEN    PICTURES. 

bed  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  and  said  mentally,  "Su-san 
La-s-co.  By  the  last  card  in  the  deck,  that  is  the  name;  if  I 
didn't  hear  Simon's  wife,  in  Shirt-Tail  Bend,  years  ago,  say 
her  mother's  name  was  S-u-s-a-n  L-a-s-c-o.  I  will  never  play 
another  game  ;  and  —and  twenty  thousand  in  bank.  By  hell, 
I've  struck  a  lead." 

The  ever  open  ear  of  the  Angel  of  observation  was 
catching  the  sound  of  a  conversation  in  the  cabin  of  Sundown 
Hill  in  Shirt-Tail  Bend.     It  was  as  follows— 

"Many  changes,  Bill,  since  you  left  here;  the  Carlo 
wood  yard  has  play'd  out ;  Don  Carlo  went  back  to  Kentucky. 
I  heard  he  was  blowed  up  on  a  steamboat;  if  he  ever  come 
down  again  I  did'nt  hear  of  it." 

"  Hope  he  never  did,"  said  Bill,  chawing  the  old  grudge 
with  his  eye  teeth. 

Hill  continued  :  "You  see,  Bill,  the  old  wood  yards  have 
given  place  to  plantations.  Simon,  your  old  friend,  is  making 
pretentions  to  be  called  a  planter,"  said  Sundown  Hill  to 
Brindle  Bill,  in  a  tone  of  confidence. 

"Go  slow,  Hill,  there  is  a  hen  on  the  nest.  I  come 
back  here  to  play  a  strong  game  ;  twenty  thousand  in  bank," 
and  Brindle  Bill  winked  with  his  right  eye,  the  language  of 
which  is,  I  deal  and  you  play  the  cards  I  give  you.  "You 
heard  of  the  burning  of  the  Brandywine;  well,  there  was  an 
Englishman  went  up  in  that  scrape,  and  he  left  twenty  thou- 
sand in  bank,  and  Rose  Simon  is  the  heir"  said  Bill  in  a 
tone  of  confidence. 

"And  what  can  that  profit  y-o-u?"  said  Hill  rather 
indignantly. 

"I  am  playing  this  game,  I  want  you  to  send  for 
Simen,"  said  Bill  rather  commandingly. 

"Simon  has  changed  considerably  since  you  saw  him; 
and,  besides,  fortunes  that  come  across  the  water  seldom 
prove  true.     Men   who  have    fortunes  in    their   native   land 


PEN    PICTURES.  47 

seldom  seek   fortunes  in  a    strange  country,"    said  Hill  a rgu- 
mentatively. 

"There  is  no  mistake  in  this  case,  for  uncle  John  had 
the  di-dapper  eggs  in  his  pocket,"  said  Bill  firmly.     . 

Late  that  evening  three  men,  in  close  council,  were  seen 
in  Shirt-Tail  Bend.  S.  S.  Simon  had  joined  the  company  of 
the  other  two.  After  Brindle  Bill  had  related  to  Simon  the 
events  above  described,  the  following  questions  and  answers 
passed  between  the  two: 

•  Mrs.  Simon's  mother  was  named  Susan  Lasco  ?" 

"  Undoubtedly ;  ana  her  father's  name  was  Tom  Fair 
field.  She  is  the  brave  woman  who  broke  up,  or  rather 
burned  up,  the  gambling  den  in  Shirt  Tail  Bend.  We  were 
married  in  Tennessee.  Mrs.  Simon  was  the  adopted  daughter 
of  Mrs.  Evaline  Estep,  her  parents  having  died  when  she 
was  quite  young.  The  old  lady  Estep  tried  to  horn  me  off; 
but  I  beat  her.  Well  the  old  christian  woman  gave  Rose  a 
good  many  things,  among  which  was  a  box  of  family  keep 
sakes ;  she  said  they  were  given  to  her  in  consideration  of 
her  taking  the  youngest  child  of  the  orphan  children.  There 
may  be  something  in  thai  box  to  identify  the  family." 

At  this  point  Brindle  Bill  winked  his  right  eye — it  is  my 
deal,  you  play  the  cards  I  give  you.  As  Simon  was  about  to 
leave  the  company,  to  break  the  news  to  his  wife,  Brindle 
Bill  said  to  him  very  confidentially :  "You  find  out  in  what 
part  of  the  country  this  division  of  the  orphan  children  took 
place,  and  whenever  you  find  that  place,  be  where  it  will,, 
right  there  is  where  I  was  raised — the  balance  of  them  child- 
ren is  dead,  Simon,"  and  he  again  winked  his  right  eye. 

"I  understand,''  said  Simon,  and  as  he  walked  on 
towards  home  to  apprise  Rose  of  her  good  fortune,  he  said 
mentally,  "This  is  Bill's  deal,  I  will  play  the  cards  he  gives 
me."  Simon  was  a  shifty  man;  he  stood  in  the  half -way- 
house  between  the  honest  man  and  the  rogue  :   was  alwavs 


48  PEN   PICTURES. 

ready  to  take  anything  he  could  lay  hands  on,  as  long  as  he 
could  hold  some  one  else  between  himself  and  danger.  Rose 
Simon  received  the  news  with  delight.  She  hastened  to  her 
box  of  keepsakes  and  held  before  Simon's  astonished  eyes  an 
old  breast-pin  with  this  inscription:  "  Presented  to  Susan 
Lasco  by  her  brother,  John  A.  Lasco,  1751."  "  That's  all 
the  evidence  we  want,"  said  Simon  emphatically.  "  Now," 
continued  Simon, csaxingly,  "  What  became  of  your  sisters  ?" 

"You  know  when  Mrs.  Estep  moved  to  Tennessee  I 
was  quite  small.  I  have  heard  nothing  of  my  sisters  since 
that  time.  It  has  been  more  than  fifteen  years,"  said  Rose 
gravely. 

"  At  what  point  in  Kentucky  were  you  separated?"  said 
Simon  inquiringly. 

'*  Port  William,  the  mouth  of  the  Kentucky  river,"  said 
Rose  plainly. 

'*  Brindle  Bill  says  they  are  dead,"  said  Simon  slowly. 

"B-r-i-n-d-le  B-i-1-1,  why,  I  would  not  believe  him  on 
oath,"  said  Rose  indignantly. 

"Yes,  bet  he  can  prove  it,"  said  Simon  triumphantly, 
and  he  then  continued,  ' '  If  we  leave  any  gaps  down,  my 
dear,  we  will  not  be  able  to  draw  the  money  until  those 
sisters  are  hunted  up,  and  then  it  would  cut  us  down  to  less 
than  seven  thousand  dollars — and  that  would  hardly  build  us 
a  fine  house,"  and  with  many  fair  and  coaxing  words  Simon 
obtained  a  promise  from  Rose  that  she  would  permit  him  to 
manage  the  business. 

At  the  counter  of  a  western  bank  stood  S.  S.  Simon  and 
party  presenting  the  certificate  of  deposit  for  twenty  thousand 
dollars.  In  addition  to  the  breast-pin  Rose  had  unfolded  an 
old  paper,  that  had  laid  for  years  in  the  bottom  of  her  box. 
It  was  a  certificate  of  the  marriage  of  Tom  Fairfield  and 
Susan  Lasco.  Brindle  Bill  and  Sundown  Hill  were  sworn 
and  testified  that  Rose   Simon  alias  Rose  Fairfield  was  the 


PEN    PICTURES.  49 

only  surviving  child  of  Tom  Fairfield  and  Susan  Lasco. 
Brindle  Bill  said  he  was  raised  in  Port  William,  and  was  at 
the  funeral  of  the  little  innocent  years  before.  The  money 
was  paid  over.  Rose  did  not  believe  a  word  that  Bill  said 
but  she  had  promised  Simon  that  she  would  let  him  manage 
the  business,  and  few  people  will  refuse  money  when  it  is 
thrust  upon  them.    - 

The  party  returned  to  Shirt-Tail  Bend.  Simon  deceived 
Rose  with  the  plea  of  some  little  debts,  paid  over  to  Brindle 
Bill  and  Sundown  Hill  three  hundred  dollars  each.  Brindle 
Bill  soon  got  away  with  three  hundred  dollars;  " Strop' d 
again,"  he  said  mentally,  and  then  continued,  "  Some  call 
it  blackmailin'  or  backmailin',  but  I  call  it  a  back-handed 
game.  It  is  nothing  but  making  use  of  power,  and  if  a  fellow 
don't  use  power  when  it's  put  in  his  hands  he  had  better 
bunch  tools  and  quit. 

Brindle  Bill  said  to  S.  S.  Simon,  "  I  have  had  a  streak 
of  bad  luck  ;  lost  all  my  money  ;  want  to  borrow  three  hun- 
dred dollars.  No  use  to  say  you  havn't  got  it,  for  I  can  find 
them  sisters  of  your  wife  in  less  than  three  weeks,"  and  he 
winked  his  right  eye. 

Simon  hesitated,  but  finally  with  many  words  of  caution 
paid  over  the  money. 

Soon  after  these  events  S.  S.  Simon  was  greatly  relieved 
by  reading  in  a  newspaper  the  account  of  the  sentence  of 
Brindle  Bill  to  the  state  prison  for  a  long  term  of  years. 

S.  S.  Simon  now  stood  in  the  front  rank  of  the  planters 
of  his  neighborhood ;  had  built  a  new  house  and  ready  to 
furnish  it ;  Rose  was  persuaded  by  him  to  make  the  trip 
with  him  to  New  Orleans  and  select  her  furniture  for  the 
new  house.  While  in  the  city  Rose  Simon  was  attacked  with 
the  yellow  fever  and  died  on  the  way  home.  She  was  buried 
in  Louisiana,  intestate  and  childless. 


SCENE  FIFTH.— THE  BELLE   OF  PORT  WILLIAM. 

A  cozy  room,  adorned  with  maiden  art, 
Contained  the  belle  of  Fort  William's  heart. 
There  she  stood — to  blushing  love  unknown, 
Her  youthful  heart  was  a"!  her  own. 
Her  sisters  gone,  and  every  kindred  tie, 
Alone  she  smiled,  alone  she  had  to  cry; 
Xo  mother's  smile,  no  father's  kind  reproof, 
She  hop'd  and  pray'd  beneath  a  stranger's  roof. 

The  voice  of  history  and  the  practice  of  historians  has 
been  to  dwell  upon  the  marching  of  armies;  the  deeds  of 
great  heroes  ;  the  rise  and  fall  of  governments ;  great  battles 
and  victories;  the  conduct  of  troops,  etc.,  while  the  manners 
and  customs  of  the  people  of  whom  they  wrrite  are  entirely 
ignored. 

Were  it  not  for  the  common  law  of  England,  we  would 
have  a  poor  knowledge  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 
English  people  long  centuries  ago. 

The  common  law  was  founded  upon  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  people,  and  many  of  the  principles  of  the 
common  law  have  come  down  to  the  present  day.  And  a  care- 
ful study  of  the  common  laws  of  England  is  the  best  guide 
to  English  civilization  lor:g  centuries  ago. 

Manners  and  customs  change  with  almost  every  genera- 
tion, yet  the  principles  upon  which  our  manners  and  customs 
are  founded  are  less  changeable. 

Change  is  marked  upcn  almost  everything      It  is  said 


PEN    PICTURES.  51 


that  the  particles  which  compose  our  bodies  change  in  every 
seven  years.     The  oceans  and  continents  change  in  a  long 
series  of  ages.     Change  is  one  of  the  universal  laws  of  matter. 
And  like  everything  else,  Port  William  changed.     Brother 
Demitt  left  Port  William,  on  foot  and  full  of  whisky,  one  cold 
evening  in   December.       The  path  led  him  across   a  field 
fenced  from  the  suburbs  of  the  village.     The  old  man  being 
unable  to  mount  the  fence,  sat  down  to  rest  with  his  back 
against  the  fence-here  it  is  supposed  he  fell  into  a  stupid 
sleep      The  cold  north  wind— that  never  ceases   to  blow  be- 
cause some  of  Earth's  poor  children  are  intoxicated-wafted 
away  the  spirit  of  the  old  man,  and  his  neighbors,  the  next 
morning,  found  the  old  man  sitting  against  the  fence,  frozen, 

cold  and  dead. 

Old  Arch  Wheataker,  full  of  whisky,  was  running  old 
Ball  for  home  one  evening  in  the  twilight.  Old  Ball,  fright- 
ened at  something  by  the  side  of  the  road,  threw  the  old  man 
against  a  tree,  and  "busted "  his  head. 

Dave  Deminish  had  retired  from  business  and  given 
place  to  the  brilliantly  lighted  saloon.  Old  Dick,  the  negro 
man,  was  sleeping  beneath  the  sod,  with  as  little  pain  in  his 
left  foot  as  any  other  member  of  his  body.  Joe,  the  colored 
boy  that  drove  the  wood  slide  so  fast  through  the  snow  with 
the  little  orphan  girls,  had  left  home,  found  his  way  to  Cana- 
da, and  was  enjoying  his  freedom  in  the  Queen's  Dominion. 

The  Demitt  estate  had  passed  through  the  hands  of  ad- 
ministrators much  reduced.  Old  Demitt  died  intestate,  and 
Aunt  Katy  had  no  children.  His  relations  inherited  his  es- 
tate, except  Aunt  Katy's  life  interest.  But  Aunt  Katy  had 
money  of  her  own,  earned  with  her  own  hands. 

Aunt  Katy  was  economical  and  industrious.  Every  dry 
goods  store  in  Port  William  was  furnished  with  stockings  knit 
by  the  hands  of  Aunt  Katy.  The  passion  to  save  in  Aunt 
Katy's  breast,  like  Aaron's  serpent,  swallowed  up  the  rest. 


52  PEN    PICTURES. 

Aunt  Katy  was  a  good  talker — except  of  her  own  con- 
cerns, upon  which  she  was  non-committal.  She  kept  her 
own  counsel  and  her  own  money.  It  was  supposed  by  the 
Demitt  kinsfolk  that  Aunt  Katy  had  a  will  filed  away,  and 
old  Ballard,  the  administrator,  was  often  interrogated  by  the 
Demitt  kinsfolk  about  Aunt  Katv's  will.  Old  Ballard  was  a 
cold  man  of  business — one  that  never  thought  of  anything 
that  did  not  pay  him — and,  of  course,  sent  all  will-hunters  to 
Aunt  Katy. 

r  The  Demitt  relations  indulged  in  many  speculations 
about  Aunt  Katy's  money.  Some  counted  it  by  the  thousand, 
and  all  hoped  to  receive  their  portion  when  the  poor  old 
woman  slept  beneath  the  sod. 

Aunt  Katy  had  moved  to  Port  William,  to  occupy  one 
of  the  best  houses  in  the  village,  in  which  she  held  a  life  es- 
tate. Aunt  Katy's  household  consisted  of  herself  and  Suza 
Fairfield,  eleven  years  old,  and  it  was  supposed  by  the  Demitt 
relations,  that  when  Aunt  Katy  died,  a  will  would  turn  up  in 
favor  of  Suza  Fairfield. 

*  Tom  Ditamus  had  moved  from  the  backwoods  of  the 
Cumberland  mountains  to  the  Ohio  river,  and  not  pleased 
with  the  surroundings  of  his  adopted  locality,  made  up  his 
mind  to  return  to  his  old  home.  Tom  had  a  wife  and  two 
dirty  children.  Tom's  wife  was  a  pussy-cat  woman,  and 
obeyed  all  of  Tom's  commands  without  ever  stopping  to 
think  on  the  subject  of  "  woman's  rights."  Tom  was  a  sulky 
fellow;  his  forehead  retreated  from  his  eyebrows,  at  an  angle 
of  forty-five  degrees,  to  the  top  of  his  head ;  his  skull  had  a 
greater  distance  between  the  ears  than  it  had  fore  and  aft';  a 
dark  shade  hung  in  the  corner  of  his  eye,  and  he  stood  six 
feet  above  the  dirt  with  square  shoulders.  Tom  was  too 
great  a  coward  to  steal,  and  too  lazy  to  work.  Tom  intended 
to  return  to  his  old  home  in  a  covered  wagon  drawn  by  an 
ox  team. 


PEN    PICTURES.  53 

The  Demitt  relations  held  a  council,  and  appointed  one 
of  their  number  to  confer  with  Tom  Ditamus  and  engage  him 
to  take  Suza  Fairfield — with  his  family  and  in  his  wagon — 
to  the  backwoods  of  the  Cumberland  Mountains.  For,  they 
said,  thus  spirited  away  Aunt  Katy  would  never  hear  from 
her;  and  Aunt  Katy's  money,  when  broken  loose  from  where 
she  was  damming  it  up,  by  the  death  of  the  old  thing  would 
flow  in  its  legitimate  channel. 

And  the  hard-favored  and  the  hard-hearted  Tom  agreed 
to  perform  the  job  for  ten  dollars. 

It  was  in  the  fall  of  the  year  and  a  foggy  morning. 
When  the  atmosphere  is  heavy  the  cold  of  the  night  produces 
a  mist  by  condensing  the  dampness  of  the  river,  called  fog  ; 
it  is  sometimes  so  thick,  early  in  the  morning,  that  the  eye 
cannot  penetrate  it  more  than  one  hundred  yards. 

Tom  was  ready  to  start,  and  fortunately  for  him,  seeing 
Suza  Fairfield  passing  his  camp,  he  approached  her.  She 
thought  he  wished  to  make  some  inquiry,  and  stood  still 
until  the  strong  man  caught  her  by  the  arm,  with  one  hand 
in  the  other  hand  he  held  an  ugly  gag,  and  told  her  if  she 
made  any  noise  he  would  put  the  bit  in  her  mouth  and  tie 
the  straps  on  the  back  of  her  head.  The  child  made  one 
scieam,  but  as  Tom  prepared  to  gag  her  she  submitted,  and 
Tom  placed  her  in  his  covered  wagon  between  his  dirty 
children,  giving  the  gag  to  his  wife,  and  commanding  her  if 
Suza  made  the  slightest  noise  to  put  the  bridle  on  her,  and 
in  the  dense  clouds  of  fog  Tom  drove  his  wagon  south. 

Suza  realized  that  she  was  captured,  but  for  what  pur- 
pose she  could  not  divine ;  with  a  brave  heart — far  above  her 
years — she  determined  to  make  her  escape  the  first  night,  for 
after  that  she  said,  mentally,  she  would  be  unable  to  find 
home.  She  sat  quietly  and  passed  the  day  in  reflection,  and 
resolved  in  her  mind  that  she  would  leave  the  caravan  of 
Tom  Ditamus  that  night,  or  die  in  the  attempt.     She  remem- 


54  PEN    PICTURES. 

bered  the  words  of  Aunt  Katy — "Discretion  is  the  better 
part  of  valor" — and  upon  that  theory  the  little  orphan 
formed  her  plan. 

The  team  traveled  slow,  for  Tom  was  compelled  to  let 
them  rest — in  the  warm  part  of  the  day — the  sun  at  last 
disappeared  behind  the  western  horizon.  To  the  unspeakable 
delight  of  the  little  prisoner,  in  a  dark  wood  by  the  shore  of 
a  creek,  Tom  encamped  for  the  night,  building  a  fire  by  the 
side  of  a  large  log.  The  party  in  the  wagon,  excepting 
Suza,  were  permitted  to  come  out  and  sit  by  the  fire.  While 
Tom's  wTife  was  preparing  supper,  Suza  imploringly  begged 
Tom  to  let  her  come  to  the  fire,  for  she  had  something  to 
tell  him.  Tom  at  last  consented,  but  said  cautiously,  "you 
must  talk  low."  "  Oh  I  I  will  talk  so  easy,"  said  Suza,  in  a 
stage  whisper.  She  was  permitted  to  take  her  seat  with 
the  party  on  a  small  log,  and  here  for  an  hour  she  enter- 
tained them  with  stories  of  abuse  that  she  had  received  from 
the  old  witch,  Aunt  Katy,  and  emphatically  declared  that  she 
would  go  anywhere  to  get  away  from  the  old  witch. 

The  orphan  girl,  eleven  years  of  age,  threw  Tom  Dita- 
mus,  a  man  thirty-five  years  of  age,  entirely  off  his  guard. 
Tom  thought  he  had  a  soft  thing  and  the  whole  party  were 
soon  sound  asleep,  except  Suza. 

With  a  step  as  light  as  a  timid  cat,  Suza  Fairfield  left 
Tom  Ditamus  and  his  family  sleeping  soundly  on  the  bank  of 
the  creek  in  the  dark  woods,  and  sped  toward  Port  Wil- 
liam. They  had  traveled  only  ten  miles  with  a  lazy  ox  team 
and  the  active  feet  of  the  little  captive  could  soon  retrace 
the  distance,  if  she  did  not  lose  the  way;  to  make  assurance 
doubly  sure,  Suza  determined  to  follow  the  Kentucky  river, 
for  she  knew  that  would  take  her  to  Port  William;  the  road 
was  part  of  the  way  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  but  sometimes 
diverged  into  the  hills  a  considerable  distance  from  the  river. 
At  those  places  Suza  would  follow  the  river,  though  her  path 


PEN    PICTURES.  55 

was  through  dense  woods  and  in  places  thickly  set  with 
underbrush  and  briars.  Onward  the  brave  little  girl  would 
struggle,  until  again  relieved  by  the  friendly  road  making  its 
appearance  again  upon  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  then  the 
nimble  little  feet  would  travel  at  the  rate  of  four  miles  an 
hour.  Again  Suza  would  have  to  take  to  the  dark  woods,  with 
no  lamp  to  guide  her  footsteps  but  the  twinkling  distant  star. 
In  one  of  these  ventures  Suza  was  brought  to  a  stand,  by 
the  mouth  of  White's  creek  pouring  its  lazy  waters  into  the 
Kentucky  river.  The  water  was  deep  and  dark.  Suza 
stood  and  reflected.  An  owl  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek.  The  last  note  of  his  voice 
seemed  to  say,  come  over — over — little  gal.  Suza  sank  upon 
the  ground  and  wept  bitterly.  It  is  said  that  the  cry  of  a 
goose  once  saved  Rome.  The  seemingly  taunting  cry  of  the 
owl  did  not  save  Suza,  but  her  own  good  sense  taught  her 
that  she  could  trace  the  creek  on  the  south  side  until  she 
would  find  a  ford,  and  when  across  the  creek  retrace  it 
back  on  the  north  side  to  the  unerring  river ;  and  although 
this  unexpected  fate  had  perhaps  doubled  her  task,  she  had 
resolved  to  perform  it.  She  remembered  Aunt  Katy's 
words,  "if  there  is  a  will,  there  is  a  way,"  and  onward  she 
sped  for  two  long  hours.  Suza  followed  the  zigzag  course  of 
the  bewildering  creek,  and  found  herself  at  last  in  the  big 
road  stretching  up  from  the  water  of  the  creek.  She  recog- 
nized the  ford,  for  here  she  had  passed  in  the  hateful  prison 
wagon,  and  remembered  that  the  water  was  not  more  than 
one  foot  deep.  Suza  pulled  off  her  little  shoes  and  waded 
the  creek ;  when  upon  the  north  side  she  looked  at  the  dark 
woods,  on  the  north  bank  of  the  creek,  and  at  the  friendly 
road,  so  open  and  smooth  to  her  little  feet,  and  said,  mental- 
ly, "this  road  will  lead  me  to  Port  William,  and  I  will  follow 
it,  if  Tom  Ditamus  does  catch  me;  "  and  Onward  she  sped. 
The  dawn  of  morning  had  illuminated  the  eastern  sky, 


56 


PEN  PICTURES. 


when  Suza  Fairfield  beheld  the  broad  and0«beautiful  bottom 
lafld  of  the  Ohio  river. 

Xo  mariner  that  ever  circumnavigated  the  globe  could 
have  beheld  his  starting  point  with  more  delight  than  Suza 
Fairfield  beheld  the  chimneys  in  Port  William.  She  was 
soon  upon  the  home  street,  and  saw  the  chimney  of  Aunt 
Katy's  house;  no  smoke  was  rising  from  it  as  from  others; 
everything  about  the  premises  was  as  still  as  the  breath  of  life 
on  the  Dead  Sea.  Suza  approached  the  back  yard,  the  door 
of  Aunt  Katy's  room  was  not  fastened,  it  turned  upon  its 
hinges  as  Suza  touched  it;  Aunt  Katy's  bed  was  not  tumbled; 
the  fire  had  burned  down;  in  front  of  the  smoldering  coals 
Aunt  Katy  sat  upon  her  easy  chair,  her  face  buried  in  her 
hands,  elbows  upon  her  knees— Suza  paused— Aunt  Katy 
sleeps;*,  moment's  reflection,  and  then  Suza  laid  her  tiny 
hand  upon  the  gray  head  of  the  sleeping  woman,  and  pro- 
nounced the  words,  nearest  her  little  heart  in  a  soft,  mellow 
tone,  "A-u-n-t  K-a-t-y." 

In  an  instant  Aunt  Katy  Demitt  was  pressing  Suza  Fair- 
field close  to  her  old  faithful  heart. 

Old  and  young  tears  were  mingled  together  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  Suza  related  her  capture  and  escape  as  we 
have  recorded  it;  at  the  close  of  which  Suza  was  nearly  out  of 
breath.  Aunt  Katy  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  by  the  bed- 
side and  covered  her  face  with  the  palms  of  her  hands.  Suza 
reflected,  and  thought  of  something  she  had  not  related,  and 
starting  toward  the  old  mother  with  the  words  on  her  tongue 
when  the  Angel  of  observation  placed  his  finger  on  her  lips, 
with  the  audible  sound  oihusht     Aunt  Katy's  praying. 

Aunt  Katy  rose  from  her  posture  with  the  words :  "I 
understand  it  all  my  child;  the  Demitts  want  you  out  of  the 
way.  Well,  if  they  get  the  few  four  pences  that  I  am  able 
to  scrape  together  old  Katy  Demitt  will  give  'em  the  last  sock 
that   she  ever  expects  to  knit;  forewarned,  fore-armed,  my 


PEN    PICTURES.  5? 

child.  As  for  Tom  Ditamus,  he  may  go  for  what  he  is  worth. 
He  has  some  of  the  Demitt  money,  no  doubt,  and  I  have  a 
warning  that  will  last  me  to  the  grave.  Old  Demitt  had  one 
fault,  but  God  knows  his  kinsfolk  have  thousands." 

Aunt  Katy  took  Suza  by  the  hand  and  led  her  to  the 
hiding  place,  and  Suzi  Fairfield,  for  the  first  time,  beheld 
Aunt  Katy's  money — five  hundred  dollars  in  gold  and  silver 
— and  the  old  foster  mother's  will,  bequeathing  all  her  earthly 
possessions  to  Suza  Fairfield.  The  will  was  witnessed  by  old 
Ballard  and  old  Father  Tearful.  And  from  thence  forward 
Suza  was  the  only  person  in  the  wide  world  in  full  possession 
of  Aunt  Katy  Demitt' s  secrets.  Tantalized  by  her  relations, 
Aunt  Katy  was  like  a  student  of  botany,  confined  in  the  cen- 
ter of  a  large  plain  with  a  single  flower,  for  she  doated  on 
Suza  Fairfield  with  a  love  seldom  realized  by  a  foster  mother. 

Tom  Ditamus  awoke  the  next  morning  (perhaps  about 
the  time  Suza  entered  Port  William)  and  found  the  little 
prisoner  gone.  Tom  did  not  care ;  he  had  his  money,  and 
he  yoked  up  his  cattle  and  traveled  on. 

We  must  now  look  forward  more  than  a  decade  in  order 
to  speak  of  Don  Carlo,  the  hero  of  Shirt-Tail  Bend,  whom,  in 
our  haste  to  speak  of  other  parties,  we  left  at  the  half-way 
castle  in  a  senseless  condition,  on  the  fatal  day  of  the  explo- 
sion of  the  Red  Stone. 

The  half-way  castle  was  one  of  the  first  brick  houses  ever 
built  on  the  Ohio  river.  It  had  long  been  the  property  of 
infant  heirs,  and  rented  out  or  left  unoccupied ;  it  stood  on 
the  southern  bank  of  the  river  about  half  way  between  Louis- 
ville and  Cincinnati,  hence  the  name  of  the  half-way  castle. 
Don  Carlo  was  severely  stunned,  but  not  fatally  injured  ;  he 
had  sold  out  in  Shirt-Tail  Bend,  and  was  returning  to  the 
home  of  his  childhood  when  the  dreadful  accident  occured. 
Don  had  saved  a  little  sum  of  money  with  which  he  had  pur- 
chased a  small  farm  in  Kentucky,  and  began  to  reflect  that 


58  PEN    PICTURES. 

he  was  a  bachelor.  Numerous  friends  had  often  reminded 
him  that  a  brave  young  lady  had  rushed  into  the  water  and 
dragged  his  lifeless  body  to  the  friendly  shore,  when  in  a  few 
minutes  more  he  would  have  been  lost  forever 

Twelve  months  or  more  after  these  events  a  camp  meeting 
was  announced  to  come  off  in  the  neighborhood  of  Port  Wil- 
liam. Camp  meetings  frequently  occurred  at  that  day  in 
Kentucky.  The  members  of  the  church,  or  at  least  a  large 
portion  of  them,  would  prepare  to  camp  out  and  hold  a  pro- 
tracted meeting.  When  the  time  and  place  were  selected 
some  of  the  interested  parties  would  visit  the  nearest  saw  mill 
and  borrow  several  wagon  loads  of  lumber,  draw  it  to  the 
place  selected,  which  was  always  in  the  woods  near  some 
stream  or  fountain  of  water,  with  the  plank  placed  upon  logs 
or  stumps,  they  would  erect  the  stand  or  pulpit,  around  the 
same,  on  three  sides  at  most,  they  would  arrange  planks  for 
seats  by  placing  them  upon  logs  and  stumps ;  they  would  also 
build  shanties  and  partly  fill  them  with  straw,  upon  which 
the  campers  slept.  Fires  were  kindled  outside  for  cooking 
purposes.  Here  they  would  preach  and  pray,  hold  prayer 
meetings  and  love  feasts  night  and  day,  sometimes  for  two  or 
three  weeks.  On  the  Sabbath  day  the  whole  country,  old 
and  young,  for  ten  miles  around,  would  attend  the  camp 
meeting. 

Don  Carlo  said  to  a  friend :  "I  shall  attend  the  camp 
meeting,  for  I  have  entertained  a  secret  desire  for  a  long  time 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  young  lady  who  it  is  said 
saved  my  life  from  the  wreck  of  the  Red  Stone." 

The  camp  meeting  will  afford  the  opportunity.  It  was 
on  a  Sabbath  morning.  Don  and  his  friend  were  standing 
upon  the  camp  ground;  the  people  were  pouring  in  from 
all  directions ;  two  young  ladies  passed  them  On  their  way  to 
the  stand;  one  of  them  attracted  Don  Carlo's  attention,  she 
was  not  a  blonde  nor  a  brunette,  but   half  way  between  the 


PEN    PICTURES.  &(J 

two,  inheriting  the  beauty  of  each.  Don  said  to  his  friend ; 
u  There  goes  the  prettiest  woman  in  America." 

Then  rubbing  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  continued ; 
"You  are  acquainted  with  people  here,  I  wish  you  would 
make  some  inquiry  of  that  lady's  name  and  family." 

"  I  thought  you  was  hunting  the  gitl  that  pulled  you  out 
of  the  river,"  said  his  friend,  sarcastically. 

«  Yes,  but  I  want  to  know  the  lady  that  has  just  passed 

us,"  said  Don,  gravely. 

Love  at  first  sight.  Ah !  what  is  love  ?  It  has  puzzled 
mental  philosophers  of  all  ages ;  and  no  one  has  ever  told  us 
why  a  man  will  love  one  woman  above  all  the  balance  of 
God's  creatures.  And  then,  the  strangest  secret  in  the  prob- 
lem is,  that  a  third  party  can  see  nothing  lovable  in  the  wo- 
man so  adored  by  her  lord. 

No  wonder,  the  ancient  Greeks  represented  cupid  as 
blind.  No,  they  did  not  represent  him  as  blind,  but  only 
blind  folded,  which  undoubtedly  leaves  the  impression  that 
the  love-god  may  peep  under  the  bandage;  and  we  advise  all 
young  people  to  take  advantage  of  that  trick-look  before 
you  love.  History  has  proven  that  persons  of  the  same  tem- 
perament should  not  marry,  for  their  children  are  apt  to  in- 
herit the  bad  qualities  of  each  parent ;  while  upon  the  other 
hand,  when  opposites  marry  the  children  are  apt  to  inherit 
the  good  qualities  of  each  parent. 

Marriage  is  the  most  important  step  taken  in  life.  When 
a  young  man  goes  out  into  the  world  to  seek  fame  and  for- 
tune  the  energies  of  his  mind  are  apt  to  concentrate  upon  the 
problem  of  obtaining  a  large  fortune.  The  wife  is  thought 
of  as  a  convenience,  the  love-god  is  consulted  and  fancy  rules 
the  occasion.  Now  let  me  say  to  all  young  men,  the  family 
is  the  great  object  of  life,  ^ou  may  pile  millions  together, 
and  it  is  all  scattered  as  soon  as  you  are  dead.  A  man's 
.children  are  his  only  living  and  permanent  representatives. 


60  PEN    PICTURES. 

You  should  not  therefore  consult  fancy  with  regard  to  fortune 
or  other  trivial  things,  but  in  the  name  of  all  the  gods,  at  once 
consult  common  sense  in  regard  to  the  family  you  produce. 

While  Don's  friend  was  upon  the  tour  of  inquiry  to  as- 
certain the  identity  of  the  handsome  young  lady,  Don  sat 
alone  upon  a  log,  and  said  mentally,  "A  woman  may  draw 
me  out  of  the  sea  ten  thousand  times,  and  she  would  never 
look  like  that  young  lady.  O!  God,  who  can  she  be !  Per- 
haps out  of  my  reach."  Don's  friend  returned  smiling. 
''Lucky,  lucky,"  and  Don's  friend  concluded  with  a  laugh. 
"  What  now?"  said  Don,  impatiently. 

"That  lady  is  the  girl  that  drew  Don  Carlo  out  of  the 
river,  her  name  is  Suza  Fairfield,  and  she  is  the  belle  of  Port 
William.  An  orphan  girl  raised  and  educated  by  old  Aunt 
Katy  Demitt.  She  has  had  a  -number  of  suitors,  but  has 
never  consented  to  leave  Aunt  Katy's  house  as  a  free  woman." 

When  the  congregation  dispersed  in  the  evening,  Don 
Carlo  and  Suza  Fairfield  rode  side  by  side  toward  Port  Wil- 
liam. 

The  language  of  courtship  is  seldom  recorded.  The 
ever  open  ear  of  the  Angel  of  observation,  has  only  furnished 
us  with  these  words : 

"  You  are  old,  my  liege,  slightly  touched  with  gray.  Pray 
let  me  live  and  with  Aunt  Katy  stay." 

"With  old  Aunt  Katy  you  shall  live  my  dear,  and  on 
her  silent  grave  drop  a  weeping  tear." 

We  can  only  speak  of  Suza  Fairfield  as  we  wish  to  speak 
of  all  other  belles. 

The  outward  acts  of  every  belle, 

Her  inward  thoughts  reveal ; 
And  by  this  rule  she  tries  to  tell 

How  other  people  feel. 

It  was  the  neighborhood  talk,  that  Suza  Fairfield,   the 


PEN  PICTURES 


(31 


belle  of  Port  William,  and  Don  Carlo,  the  hero  of  Shirt-Tail 
Bend,  were  engaged  to  be  married. 

All  neighborhoods  will  talk.  Aunt  Katy  at  the  table, 
Betsey  Green  and  Cousin  Sally;  the  meeting  and  the  show; 
all  neighborhoods  will  talk,  for  God  has  made  them  so. 

Secrets  should  be  kept,  but  neighbors  let  them  go  ;  with 
caution  on  the  lip,  they  let  a  neighbor  know,  all  secrets  here 
below.  Some  add  a  little  and  some  take  away.  Each  be- 
lieves his  neighbors  in  everything  they  say.  They  hold  a 
secret  sacred  and  only  tell  a  friend,  and  then  whisper  in  the 
ear,  Silly  told  me  this  and  you  must  keep  it  dear;  when  all 
have  kept  it  and  every  body  knows,  true  or  false,  they  tell  it 
as  it  goes. 


SCENE  SIXTH.— THE  SECOND  GENERATION. 

The  son  may  wear  the  father's  crown, 
When  the  gray  old  father's  dead  ; 
May  wear  his  shoe,  and  wear  his  gown, 
But  he  can  never  wear  his  head. 

How  few  realize  that  we  are  so  swiftly  passing  away, 
and  giving  our  places  on  earth,  to  new  men  and  women. 

Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  and  on  we  go,  from  the  cradle  to 
the  grave,  without  stopping  to  reflect,  that  an  old  man  is 
passing  away  every  hour,  and  a  new  one  taking  his  place. 

Like  drops  of  rain,  descending  upon  the  mountains,  and 
hurrying  down  to  form  the  great  river,  running  them  off  to 
the  ocean,  and  then  returning  in  the  clouds.  The  change  is 
almost  imperceptible. 

New  men  come  upon  the  stage  of  life  as  it  were  unob- 
served, and  old  ones  pass  away  in  like  manner,  and  thus  the 
great  river  of  life  flows  on.  Were  the  change  sudden,  and 
all  at  once,  it  would  shock  the  philosophy  of  the  human  race. 
A  few  men  live  to  witness  the  rise  and  fall  of  two  generations. 
Long  years  have  intervened  and  the  characters  portrayed  in 
the  preceding  part  of  our  story,  have  all  passed  away. 

Some  of  their  descendants  come  upon  the  stage  to  fight 
the  great  battle  of  life. 

Young  Simon  will  first  claim  our  attention ;  he  is  the  only 
son  of  S.  S.  Simon  by  a  second  wife,  his  mother  is  dead,  and 
Young  Simon  is  heir  to  a  large  estate. 

The  decade  from  eighteen  hundred  and  forty  to  eighteen 


PEN    PICTURES.  tib 

hundred  and  fifty,  is,  perhaps,  the  most  interesting  decade 
in  the  history  of  the  settlement  and  progress  of  the  Western 
States. 

In  that  era,  the  great  motive  power  of  our  modern  civili- 
zation, the  iron  horse  and  the  magnetic  telegraph  were  put 
into  successful  operation,  across  the  broad  and  beautiful 
Western  States. 

The  history  of  the  West  and  Southwest  in  the  first  half 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  is  replete  with  romance,  or  with 
truth  stranger  than  fiction.  The  sudden  rise  of  a  moneyed 
aristocracy  in  the  West,  furnishes  a  theme  for  the  pen  of  a 
historian  of  no  mean  ability. 

This  American  aristocracy,  diverse  from  the  aristocracy 
of  the  old  world,  who  stimulated  by  family  pride,  preserved 
the  history  of  a  long  line  of  ancestors,  born  to  distinction, 
and  holding  the  tenure  of  office  by  inheritance,  could  trace 
the  heroic  deeds  of  their  fathers  back  to  the  dark  ages, 
while  some  of  our  American  aristocrats  are  unable  to  give  a 
true  history  of  their  grandfather. 

In  the  first  half  of  the  nineteeth  century  the  cultivation 
of  the  cotton  plant  in  the  Southern  States  assumed  gigantic 
proportions.  The  Northern  States  bartered  their  slaves  for 
money,  and  the  forest  of  the  great  Mississippi  river  fell  by 
the  ax  of  the  colored  man ;  salvation  from  the  demons  of  want 
was  preached  by  the  nigger  and  the  mule. 

Young  Simon  was  a  cotton  planter,  inheriting  from  his 
father  four  plantations  of  one  thousand  acres,  and  more  than 
six  hundred  slaves. 

Young  Simon  knew  very  little  of  the  history  of  his  family, 
and  the  more  he  learned  of  it,  the  less  he  wanted  to  know. 
His  father  in  his  lifetime,  had  learned  the  history  of  Roxie 
Daymon  alias  Roxie  Fairfield,  up  to  the  time  she  left  Louis- 
ville, and  had  good  reason  to  believe  that  Roxie  Daymon,  or 
her  descendants,  also  Suza  Fairfield,  or  her  descendants  still 


64  PEN    PICTURES. 

survived.  But  as  we  have  said,  S.  S.  Simon  stood  in  the 
half-way-house,  between  the  honest  mai-.  and  the  rogue.  He 
reflected  upon  the  subject  mathematically,  as  he  said  mental- 
ly, "Twenty  thousand  dollars  and  twenty  years  interest — 
why !  it  would  break  me  up ;  I  wish  to  die  a  rich  man. 

And  onward  he  strove,  seasoned  to  hardship  in  early  life, 
he  slept  but  little,  the  morning  bell  upon  his  plantations 
sounded  its  iron  notes  up  and  down  the  Mississippi  long  be- 
fore daylight  every  morning,  that  the  slaves  might  be  ready 
to  resume  their  work  as  soon  as  they  could  see.  Simon's 
anxiety  to  die  a  rich  man  had  so  worked  upon  his  feelings  for 
twenty  years,  that  he  was  a  hard  master  and  a  keen  financier. 

The  time  to  die  never  entered  his  brain;  for  it  was  all 
absorbed  with  the  die  rich  question.  Unexpectedly  to  him, 
death's  white  face  appeared  when  least  expected,  from  hard 
work,  and  exposure,  S.  S.  Simon  was  taken  down  with  the 
swamp  fever ;  down — down — down  for  a  few  days  and  then 
the  crisis,  the  last  night  of  his  suffering  was  terrible,  the  at- 
tending physician  and  his  only  son  stood  by  his  bedside.  All 
night  he  was  delirious,  everything  he  saw  was  in  the  shape  of 
Roxie  Daymon,  every  movement  made  about  the  bed,  the 
dying  man  would  cry,  ■ '  Take  Roxie  Daymon  away. " 

Young  Simon  was  entirely  ignorant  of  his  father's  history 
— and  the  name  Roxie  Daymon  made  a  lasting  impression  on 
his  brain.  Young  Simon  grew  up  without  being  inured  to 
any  hardships,  and  his  health  was  not  good,  for  he  soon  fol- 
lowed his  father;  during  his  short  life  he  had  everything  that 
heart  could  desire,  except  a  family  name  and  good  health, 
the  lack  of  which  made  him  almost  as  poor  as  the  meanest  of 
his  slaves. 

Young  Simon  received  some  comfort  in  his  last  days  from 
his  cousin  Caesar.  Caesar  Simon  was  the  son  of  the  brother 
of  S.  S.  Simon  who  died  in  early  life,  leaving  three  children 
in  West  Tennessee.     Cousin  Caesar  was  raised  by  two  penni- 


PEN    t>tCTURES. 


65 


less  sisters,  whom  he  always  called  "big-sis"  and  "little-sis." 
"Big-sis"  was  so  called  from  being  the  eldest,  and  had  the 
care  of  cousin  Cesar's  childhood.  Cousin  Caesar  manifested 
an  imaginary  turn  of  mind  in  early  childhood.  He  was,  one 
day,  sitting  on  his  little  stool,  by  the  side  of  the  tub  in  which 
"  big-sis  "  was  washing,  (for  she  was  a  washer-woman,)  gazing 
intently  upon  the  surface  of  the  water.  "  What  in  the  world 
are  you  looking  at  C-a-e-s-a-r  ?  "  said  the  woman,  straighten- 
ing up  in  astonishment. 

"  Looking  at  them  bubbles  on  the  suds,"  said  the  boy, 

gravely. 

"And  what  of  the  bubbles?"  continued  the  woman. 

"I  expected  to  see  one  of  them  burst  into  a  1-o-a-f  of 
b-r-e-a-d,"  said  the  child  honestly. 

"Big-sis"  took  cousin  Caesar  to  the  fire,  went  to  the 
cupboard  and  cut  her  last  loaf  of  bread,  and  spread  upon  it 
the  last  mouthful  of  butter  she  had  in  the  world,  and  gave  it 

cousin  Caesar. 

And  thus  he  received  his  first  lesson  of  reward  for  im- 
agination which,  perhaps,  had  something  to  do  with  his  after 

life. 

Cousin  Caesar  detested  work,  but  had  a  disposition  to 
see  the  bottom  of  everything.  No  turkey-hen  or  guinea 
fowl  could  make  a  nest  that  cousin  Caesar  could  not  find. 
He  grew  up  mischievous,  so  much  so  that  "big-sis"  would 
occasionally  thrash  him.  He  would  then  run  off  and  live 
with  "little-sis"  until  "little-sis"  would  better  the  instruc- 
tion, for  she  would  whip  also.  He  would  then  run  back  to 
live  with  "  big-sis."  In  this  way  cousin  Caesar  grew  to  thir- 
teen years  of  age— too  big  to  whip.  He  then  went  to  live 
with  old  Smith,  who  had  a  farm  on  the  Tennessee  river,  con- 
taining a  large  tract  of  land,  and  who  hired  a  large  quantity 
of  steam  wood  cut  every  season.  Rob  Roy  was  one  of  old 
Smith's  wood  cutters— a  bachelor  well  advanced  in  years,  he 


66  PEN    PICTURES. 

lived  alone  in  a  cabin  made  of  poles,  on  old  Smith's  land. 
Hi?  sleeping  couch  was  made  with  three  poles,  running  par- 
allel with  the  wall  of  the  cabin,  and  filled  with  straw.  He 
never  wore  any  stockings  and  seldom  wore  a  coat,  winter  or 
summer.  The  furniture  in  his  cabin  consisted  of  a  three-leg- 
ged stool,  and  a  pine  goods  box.  His  ax  was  a  handsome 
tool,  and  the  only  thing  he  always  kept  brightly  polished. 
He  was  a  good  workman  at  his  profession  of  cutting  wood. 
No  one  knew  anything  of  his  history.  He  was  a  man  that 
seldom  talked  ;  he  was  faithful  to  work  througn  the  week,  but 
spent  the  Sabbath  day  drinking  whisky.  He  went  to  the 
village  every  Saturday  evening  and  purchased  one  gallon  of 
whisky,  which  he  carried  in  a  stone  jug  to  his  cabin,  and 
drank  it  all  himself  by  Monday  morning,  when  he  would  be 
ready  to  go  to  work  again.  Old  Rob  Roy's  habits  haunted 
the  mind  of  cousin  Caesar,  and  he  resolved   to  play  a  trick 

"upon  the  old  wood  cutter.  Old  Smith  had  some  hard  cider 
to  which  cousin  Caesar  had  access.  One  lonesome  Sunday 
cousin  Caesar  stole  Roy's  jug  half  full  of  whisky,  poured  the 
whisky  out,  re-filled  the  jug  with  cider,  and  cautiously  slipped 
it  back  into  Roy's  cabin.  On  Monday  morning  Rob  Roy 
refused  to  work,  and  was  very  mad.  Old  Smith  demanded 
to  know  the  cause  of  the  trouble.  "You  can't  fool  a  man 
with  cider  who  loves  good  whisky,'"  said  Roy  indignantly. 
Old  Smith  traced  the  trick  up  and  discharged  cousin  Caesar. 

*  At  twenty  years  of  age  we  find  Cousin   Caesar  in   Pa- 

ducah,  Kentucky,  calling  himself  Cole  Conway,  in  company 
with  one  Steve  Sharp — they  were  partners — in  the  game,  as 
they  called  it.  In  the  back  room  of  a  saloon,  dimly  lighted, 
one  dark  night,  another  party,  more  proficient  in  the  sleight 
of  hand,  had  won  the  last  dime  in  their  possession.  The 
time  had  come  to  close  up.  The  sun  had  crossed  the  merid- 
ian on  the  other  side  of  the  globe.  Cole  Conway  and 
Steve  Sharp  crawled  into  an  old  straw  shed,  in  the  suburbs, 


PEN    PICTURES.  67 

of  the  village,  and  were  soon  soundly  sleeping.  The  sun 
had  silvered  the  old  straw  shed  when  Sharp  awakened,  and 
saw  Conway  sitting  up,  as  white  as  death's  old  horse.  "What 
on  earth  is  the  matter,  Conway?"  said  Sharp,  inquiringly. 
"I  slumbered  heavy  in  the  latter  end  of  night,  and  had  a 
brilliant  dream,  and  awoke  from  it,  to  realize  this  old  straw 
shed  doth  effect  me,"  said  Conway  gravely.  "The  dream  ! 
the  dream!"  demanded  Sharp.  "I  dreamed  that  we  were 
playing  cards,  and  I  was  dealing  out  the  deck;  the  last  card 
was  mine,  and  it  was  very  thick.  Sharp,  it  looked  like  a 
box,  and  with  thumb  and  finger  I  pulled  it  open.  In  it  there 
were  three  fifty-dollar  gold  pieces,  four  four-dollar  gold  pieces, 
and  ten  one-dollar  gold  pieces.  I  put  the  money  in  my 
pocket,  and  was  listening  for  you  to  claim  half,  as  you  pur- 
chased the  cards.  You  said  nothing  more  than  that  'them 
cards  had  been  put  up  for  men  who  sell  prize  cards.'  I  took 
the  money  out  again,  when  lo,  and  behold !  one  of  the  fifty- 
dollar  pieces  had  turned  to  a  rule  about  eight  inches  long, 
hinged  in  the  middle.  Looking  at  it  closely  I  saw  small  let- 
ters engraved  upon  it,  which  1  was  able  to  read — you  know, 
Sharp,  I  learned  to  read  by  spelling  the  names  on  steam- 
boats— or  that  is  the  way  I  learned  the  letters  of  the  alpha- 
bet. The  inscription  directed  me  to  a  certain  place,  and 
there  I  would  find  a  steam  carriage  that  could  be  run  on  any 
common  road  where  carriages  are  drawn  by  horses.  We 
went,  and  found  the  carriage.  It  was  a  beautiful  carriage — 
with  highly  finished  box — on  four  wheels,  the  box  was  large 
enough  for  six  persons  to  sit  on  the  inside.  The  pilot  sat 
upon  the  top,  steering  with  a  wheel,  the  engineer,  who  was 
also  fireman,  and  the  engine,  sat  on  the  aft  axle,  behind  the 
passenger  box.  The  whole  structure  was  very  light,  the 
boiler  was  of  polished  brass,  and  sat  upon  end.  The  heat 
was  engendered  by  a  chemical  combination  of  phosphorus 
and  tinder.     The  golden  rule  gave  directions  how  to  run  the 


68  PEN    PICTURES. 

engine — by  my  directions,  Sharp,  you  was  pilot  and  I  was  en 
gineer,  and  we  started  south,  toward  my  old  home.      People 
came  running  out  from  houses  and  fields  to  see  us  pass      I 
saw  something  on  the  beautiful  brass  boiler  that  looked  lik 
a  slide  door.     I  shoved  it,  and  it  slipped  aside,  revealing  the 
dial  of  a  clock  which  told  the  time  of  day,  also  by  a  separate 
hand  and  figures,  told  the  speed  at  which  the  carriage  was 
running.      On  the  right  hand  side  of  the  dial  I  saw  the  fig- 
ures 77.     They  were  made  of  India  rubber,  and  hung  upon 
two  brass  pins.      I  drew  the  slide  door  over  the  dial  except 
when   I   wished   to   look  at  the   time  of  day,  or  the  rate  of 
speed  at  which  we  were  running,  and  every  time  I  opened 
the   door,  one   of  the  figure    7's   had   fallen  off  the  pin.      I 
would  replace  it,  and  again  find  it  fallen  off.    So  I  concluded 
it  was  only  safe  to  run  seven  miles  an  hour,  and  I  regulated 
to  that  speed.     In    a    short  time,  I    looked    again,  and    we 
were  running  at  the  rate  of  fifteen   miles   an   hour.      I  knew 
that  I  had  not  altered  the  gauge  of  steam.      A  hissing  sound 
caused  me  to  think  the  water  was   getting  low  in  the  boiler. 
On  my  left  I  saw  a  brass  handle  that  resembled    the  handle 
of  a  pump.      I  seized  it  and  commenced  work.    I  could  hear 
the   bubbling   of  the   water.      I   look  down  at  the  dry  road, 
and  said,  mentally,  -'no  water  can   come  from  there.'     Oh! 
how  I  trembled.      It   so   frightened  me   that  I  found   myself 
wide  awake." 

"Dreams  are  but  eddies  in  the  current  of  the  mind,  which 
cut  off  from  reflection's  gentle  stream,  sometimes  play  strange> 
fantastic  tricks.  I  have  tumbled  headlong  down  from  high 
and  rocky  cliffs;  cold-blooded  snakes  have  crawled  'round 
my  limbs;  the  worms  that  eat  through  dead  men's  flesh, 
have  crawled  upon  my  skin,  and  I  have  dreamed  of  trans- 
portation beyond  the  shores  of  time.  My  last  night's  dream 
hoisted  me  beyond  my  hopes,  to  let  me  fall  and  find  myself 
i:i  this  d old  straw  shed."      "The  devil  never  dream?," 


PEN    PICTURES.  u* 


said  Sharp,  coolly,  and  then  continued-   "Holy  men  of  old 
dreamed  of  the  Lord,  but  never  of  the  devrl,  and  to  under- 
-and  a  dream,  we  must  be  just  to  all  the  world,  and  to  our- 
selves before  God." 

"I  have  a  proposition  to  make  to  you,  Conway? 

"  WliatV  said  Conway,  eagerly. 

"If  you  will  tell  me  in  confidence,  your  true  name  and 
history,  I  will  give  you  mine,"  sard  Sharp,  emphatically. 
■'treed,"  said  Conway,  and  then  continued,  "as  you  made 

he  proposition  give  us >J£^£  father  wag  called 

<Mv  name  is  bteve  .brmuic.  ^y 
Brindle  Bill,  and  once  lived  in  Shrrt-Tail  Bend,  »» 
stssippi.  He  died  in  the  state  prison.  My  mother  »as  a 
"errf  Sundown  Hill,  who  lived  in  the  same  ne^borta-d. 
My  father  and  mother  were  never  married.  So  >ou  see,  i 
am  a  come  by-chance,  and  I  have  been  going  by  chance  all 
7m  life.  Now,  I  have  told  you  the  God's  truth,  so  far  as 
I  Jow  it  Now  make  a  clean  brerst  of  it,  Conway,  and  let 
us  hear  your  pedigree,"  said  Bnndie,  confidentially. 

.•I  was  bom  in  Tennessee.  My  father's  name  was 
Caesar  Simon,  and  I  bear  his  name.  My  mother's  name  was 
Nancy  Wade.  I  do  not  remember  either  of  them  I  was 
partly  raised  by  my  sisters,  and  the  balance  of  the  Ume  I 
have  tried  to  raise  myself,  but  it  seems  it  will  take  me  a  Ion, 
ZU^nake  a  raise-"  at  this  point,  Brindle  inter  tered  m 
breathless  suspense,  with  the  inquiry,  •■  Did  you  have  an  un- 
cle named  S.  S.  Simon?"  "  I  have  heard  my  sister  say  as 
much,"  continued  Simon. 

"Then  your  dream  is  interpreted,"  said  Brindle,  em- 
phatically. "Your  Uncle,  S.  S.  Simon,  has  left  one  of  the 
largest  estates  in  Arkansas,  and  now  you  are  on  the  steam 
wagon  again,"  said  Brindle,  slapping  his  companion  on  the 

shoulder. 

Brindle   had  been   instructed  by  his   mother,  and  made 


70  PEN    PICTURES. 

Cousin  Caesar  acquainted  with  the  outline  of  all  the  history- 
detailed  in  this  narrative,  except  the  history  of  Roxie  Day- 
mon  alias  Roxie  Fairfield,  in  Chicago. 

The  next  day  the  two  men  were  hired  as  hands  to  go 
down  the  river  on  a  flat-bottom  boat. 

Roxie  Daymon,  whose  death  has  been  recorded,  left  an 
only  daughter,  now  grown  to  womanhood,  and  bearing  her 
mother's  name.  Seated  in  the  parlor  of  one  of  the  descend- 
ants of  Aunt  Patsy  Perkins,  in  Chicago,  we  see  her  sad,  and 
alone;  we  hear  the  hall  bell  ring.  A  servant  announces  the 
name  of  Gov.  Morock.  "Show  the  Governor  up,"  said 
Roxie,  sadly.  The  ever  open  ear  of  the  Angel  of  observa- 
tion has  only  furnished  us  with   the   following  conversation : 

"Everything  is  positively  lost,  madam,  not  a  cent  in 
the  world.  Every  case  has  gone  against  us,  and  no  appeal, 
madam.  You  are  left  hopelessly  destitute,  and  penniless. 
Daymon  should  have  employed  me  ten  years  ago — but  now, 
it  is  too  late.  Everything  is  gone,  madam,"  and  the  Gov- 
ernor paused.  "My  mother  was  once  a  poor,  penniless 
girl,  and  I  can  bear  it  too,"  said  Roxie,  calmly.  "  But  you 
see,"  said  the  Governor,  softening  his  voice;  "you  are  a 
handsome  young  lady;  your  fortune  is  yet  to  be  made.  For 
fifty  dollars,  madam,  I  can  fix  you  up  a  shadow,  that  will 
marry  you  off.  You  see  the  law  has  some  loop  holes  and — 
and  in  your  case,  madam,  it  is  no  harm  to  take  one;  no 
harm,  no  harm,  madam,"  and  the  Governor  paused  again. 
Roxie  looked  at  the  man  sternly,  and  said:  "I  have  no 
further  use  for  a  lawyer,  Sir."  "Any  business  hereafter, 
madam,  that  you  may  wish  transacted,  send  your  card  to 
No.  77,  Strait  street,"  and  the  Governor  made  a  side  move 
toward  the  door,  touched  the  rim  of  his  hat  and  disappeared. 

It  was  in  the  golden  month  of  October,  and  calm, 
smoky  days  of  Indian  summer,  that  a  party  of  young  people 
living  in  Chicago,  made  arrangements  for  a  pleasure   trip  to 


PEN    PICTURES.  71 

New  Orleans.  There  were  four  or  five  young  ladies  in  the 
party,  and  Roxie  Daymon  was  one.  She  was  handsome  and 
interesting — if  her  fortune  was  gone.  The  party  consisted  of 
the  moneyed  aristocracy  of  the  city,  with  whom  Roxie  had 
been  raised  and  educated.  Every  one  of  the  party  was 
willing  to  contribute  and  pay  Roxie's  expenses,  for  the  sake 
of  her  company.  A  magnificent  steamer,  of  the  day,  plying 
between  St.  Louis  and  New  Orleans,  was  selected  for  the 
carrier,  three  hundred  feet  in  length,  and  sixty  feet  wide. 
The  passenger  cabin  was  on  the  upper  deck,  nearly  two 
hundred  feet  in  length;  a  guard  eight  feet  wide,  for  a  foot- 
way, and  promenade  on  the  outside  of  the  hall,  extended  on 
both  sides,  the  full  length  of  the  cabin ;  a  plank  partition  di- 
vided the  long  hall— the  aft  room  was  the  ladies',  the  front 
the  gentlemen's  cabin.  The  iron  horse,  or  some  of  his  suc- 
cessors, will  banish  these  magnificent  floating  palaces,  and  I 
describe,  for  the  benefit  of  coming  generations. 

Nothing  of  interest  occured  to  our  party,  until  the  boat 
landed  at  the  Simon  plantations.  Young  Simon  and  cousin 
Caesar  boarded  the  boat,  for  passage  to  New  Orleans,  for  they 
were  on  their  way  to  the  West  Indies,  to  spend  the  winter. 
Young  Simon  was  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption  and  his 
physician  had  recommended  the  trip  as  the  last  remedy. 
Young  Simon  was  walking  on  the  outside  guard,  opposite  the 
ladies'  cabin,  when  a  female  voice  with  a  shrill  and  piercing 
tone  rang  upon  his  ear— "Take  Roxie  Daymon  away."  The 
girls  were  romping.  —  "  Take  Roxie  Daymon  away,"  were  the 
mysterious  dying  words  of  young  Simon's  father.  Simon 
turned,  and  mentally  bewildered,  entered  the  gentlemen's 
cabin.  A  colored  boy,  some  twelve  years  of  age,  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  boat,  was  passing— Simon  held  a  silver  dollar  in 
his  hand  as  he  said,  "I  will  give  you  this,  if  you  will  ascer- 
tain and  point  out  to  me  the  lady  in  the  cabin,  that  they  call 
Roxie  Daymon."     The   imp  of  Africa  s^Vd  th*   ^oin,  and 


"2  PEN    PICTURES. 

passing  on  said  in  a  voice  too  low  for  Simon's  ear,  "good 
bargain,  boss."  The  Roman  Eagle  was  running  down  stream 
through  the  dark  and  muddy  waters  of  the  Mississippi,  at  the 
rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour. 

In  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  Young  Simon  and  Roxie 
Daymon  were  sitting  side  by  side — alone,  on  the  aft-guard  of 
the  boat.  The  ever  open  ear  of  the  Angel  of  observation  has 
furnished  us  with  the  following  conversation. 

"Your  mother's  maiden  name,  is  what  I  am  anxious  to 
learn,"  said   Simon  gravely. 

11  Roxie  Fairfield,  an  orphan  girl,  raised  in  Kentucky."  said 
Roxie  sadlv. 

J 

"Was  she  an  only  child,  or  did  she  have  sisters?"  said 
Simon  inquiringly. 

"  My  mother  died  long  years  ago—when  I  was  too  young 
to  remember,  my  father  had  no  relations— that  I  ever  heard  of 
— Old  aunt  Patsey  Perkins— a  great  friend  of  mother's  in  her 
life -time,  told  me  after  mother  was  dead,  and  1  had  grown 
large  enough  to  think  about  kinsfolk,  that  mother  had  two  sis- 
ters somewhere,  named  Rose  and  Suza,  poor  trash,  as  she 
called  them ;  and  that  is  all  I  know  of  my  relations  :  and  to  be 
frank  with  you,  I  am  nothing  but  poor  trash  too,  I  have  no 
family  history  to  boast  of,"  said  Roxie  honestly. 

"You  will  please  excuse  me  Miss,  for  wishing  to  know 
something  of  your  family  history— there  is  a  mystery  connec- 
ted with  it,  that  may  prove  to  your  advantage"— Simon  was 
convinced. — He  pronounced  the  word  twenty — when  the  An- 
gel of  caution  placed  his  finger  on  his  lip— hush! — and  young 
Sunon  turned  the  conversation,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  po- 
litely do  so,  left  the  presence  of  the  young  lady,  and  sought 
cousin  Caesar,  who  by  the  way,  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
most  of  the  circumstances  we  have  recorded,  but  had  wisely 
kept  them  to  himself.  Cousin  Caesar  now  told  young  Simon 
the  whole  story. 


PEN    PICTURES.  73 

Twenty-thousand  dollars,  with  twenty  years  interest,  was 
against  his  estate.  Roxie  Daymon,  the  young  lady  en  the 
boat,  was  an  heir,  others  lived  in  Kentucky — all  of  which 
cousin  Caesar  learned  from  a  descendant  of  Brindle  Bill.  The 
pleasure  party  with  Simon  and  cousin  Caesar,  stopped  at  the 
same  hotel  in  the  Crescent  City.  At  the  end  of  three  weeks 
the  pleasure  party  returned  to  Chicago.  Young  Simon  and 
cousin  Caesar  left  for  the  West  Indies. — Young  Simon  and 
Roxie  Daymon  were  engaged  to  be  married  the  following 
spring  at  Chicago.  Simon  saw  many  beautiful  women  in  his 
travels — but  the  image  of  Roxie  Daymon  was  ever  before  him. 
The  good  Angel  of  observation  has  failed  to  inform  us,  of 
Roxie  Daymon's  feelings  and  object  in  the  match.  A  young 
and  beautiful  woman  ;  full  of  life  and  vigor  consenting  to  wed 
a  dying  man,  hushed  the  voice  of  the  good  Angel,  and  he  has 
said  nothing. 

Spring  with  its  softening  breezes  returned — the  ever  to 
be  remembered  spring  of  1861. 

The  shrill  note  of  the  iron  horse  announced  the  anival 
of  young  Simon  and  cousin  Caesar  in  Chicago,  on  the  7th  day 
of  April,  1 86 1. 

Simon  had  lived  upon  excitement,  and  reaching  the  des- 
tination of  his  hopes— the  great  source  of  his  life  failed — cou- 
sin Caesar  carried  him  into  the  hotel — he  never  stood  alone 
again — the  marriage  was  put  off— until  Simon  should  be  bet- 
ter. On  the  second  day,  cousin  Caesar  was  preparing  to  leave 
the  room,  on  business  in  a  distant  part  of  the  city.  Roxie 
had  been  several  times  alone  with  Simon,  and  was  then  \  res- 
ent. Roxie  handed  a  sealed  note  to  cousin  Caesar,  politely 
asking  him  to  deliver  it.  The  note  was  inscribed,  Gov.  Mo- 
rock,  No.  77  Strait  street. 

Cousin  Caesar  had  been  absent  but  a  short  time,  when 
that  limb  of  the  law  appeared  and  wrote  a  will  dictated  by 
young  Simon  ;  bequeathing  all  of  his  possessions,  without  re-' 


74:  PEN    PICTURES. 

serve  to  Roxie  Daymon.  u  How  much,"  said  Roxie,  as  the 
Governor  was  about  to  leave.  "  Cnly  ten  dollars,  madam," 
said  the  Governor,  as  he  stuffed  the  bill  carelessly  in  his  vest 
pocket  and  departed. 

Through  the  long  vigils  of  the  night  cousin  Caesar  sat  by 
the  side  of  the  dying  man ;  before  the  sun  had  silvered  the 
eastern  horizon,  the  soul  of  young  Simon  was  with  his  fathers. 
The  day  was  consumed  in  making  preparations  for  the  last, 
honor  due  the  dead.  Cousin  Caesar  arranged  with  a  party 
to  take  the  remains  to  Arkansas,  and  place  the  son  by  the 
side  of  the  father,  on  the  home»plantation.  The  next  morn- 
ing as  cousin  Caesar  was  scanning  the  morning  papers,  the  fol- 
lowing brief  notice  attracted  his  attention:  "  Young  Simon, 
the  wealthy  young  cotton  planter,  who  died  in  the  city  yester- 
day, left  by  his  last  will  and  testament  his  whole  estate,  worth 
more  than  a  million  of  dollars,  to  Roxie  Daymon,  a  young 
lady  of  this  city. 

Cousin  Caesar  was  bewildered  and  astonished.  He  was 
a  stranger  in  the  city  ;  he  rubbed  his  hand  across  his  forehead 
to  collect  his  thoughts,  and  remembered  No.  77  Strait  street. 
"Yes  I  observed  it — it  is  a  law  office,"  he  said  mentally, 
"there  is  something  in  that  number  seventy-seven,  I  have 
never  understood  it  before,  since  my  dream  on  the  steam  car- 
nage seventy-seven ,"  and  cousin  Caesar  directed  his  steps  to- 
ward Strait  street. 

"  Important  business,  I  suppose  sir,"  said  Governor  Mo- 
rock,  as  he  read  cousin  Caesar's  anxious  countenance. 

"Yes,  somewhat  so,"  said  cousin  Caesar,  pointing  to  the 
notice  in  the  paper,  he  continued:  "  I  am  a  relative  of  Simon 
and  have  served  him  faithfully  for  two  years,  and  they  say  he 
has  willed  his  estate  to  a  stranger." 

"  Is  it  p-o-s-s-i-b-l-e-,"  said  the  Governor,  affecting  aston- 
ishment. 


PEN    PICTURES.  75 


"  What  would  you  advise  me  to  do  ?  "  said  cousin  Cae- 
sar imploringly. 

"  Break  the  will — break  the  will,  sir,r'  said  the  Governor 

emphatically. 

'  Ah!    that  will  take  money,"  said  cousin  Caesar  sadly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  it  will  bring  money,"  said  the  Governor, 
rubbing  his  hands  together. 

"I  s-u-p  p-o-s-ewe  would  be  required  to  prove  incapac- 
ity on  the  part  of  Simon,"   said  cousin  Caesar  slowly. 

"Money  will  prove  anything,"  said  the  Governor  decid- 
edly. 

The  Governor  struck  the  right  key,  for  cousin  Caesar  was 
well  schooled  in  treacherous  humanity,  and  noted  for  seeing 
the  bottom  of  things;  but  he  did  not  see  the  bottom  of  the 
Governor's  dark  designs. 

"  How  much  for  this  case  ?  "said  cousin  Caesar. 

"Oh!  I  am  liberal — I  am  liberal,"  said  the  Governor 
rubbing  his  hands  and  continuing,  "  can't  tell  exactly,  owing 
to  the  trouble  and  cost  of  the  things,  as  we  go  along.  A  mil- 
lion is  the  stake — well,  let  me  see,  this  is  no  child's  play.  A 
man  that  has  studied  for  long  years — you  can't  expect  him  to 
be  cheap — but  as  I  am  in  the  habit  of  working  for  nothing — 
if  you  will  pay  me  one  thousand  dollars  in  advance,  I  will 
undertake  the  case,  and  then  a  few  more  thousands  will  round 
it  Up — can't  say  exactly,  any  more  sir,  than  I  am  always  lib- 
eral." 

Cousin  Caesar  had  some  pocket-money,  furnished  by 
young  Simon,  to  pay  expenses  etc.,  amounting  to  a  little  more 
than  one  thousand  dollars.  His  mind  was  bewildered  with 
the  number  seventy-seven,  and  he  paid  over  to  the  Governor 
one  thousand  dollars.  After  Governor  Morock  had  the  mon- 
ey safe  in  his  pocket,  he  commenced  a  detail  of  the  cost  of 
ftie  suit — among  other  items,  was  a  large  amount  for  witnesses. 


76  PEN    PICTURES.      . 

The  Governor  had  the  case — it  was  a  big  case — and  the  Gov- 
ernor has  determined  to  make  it  pay  him. 

Cousin  Cseser  reflected,  and  saw  that  he  must  have  help, 
and  as  he  left  the  office  of  Governor  Morock,  said  mentally  : 
'•'  One  of  them  d — n  figure  sevens  I  saw  in  my  dream,  would 
fall  off  the  pin,  and  I  fear,  I  have  struck  the  wrong  lead." 

In  the  soft  twilight  of  the  evening,  when  the  conductor 
cried,  "all  aboard,"  cousin  Cassar  was  seated  in  the  train,  on 
his  way  to  Kentucky,  to  solicit  aid  from  Cliff  Carlo,  the  oldest 
son  and  representative  man, of  the  family  descended  from  Don 
Carlo,  the  hero  of  Shirt-Tail  Band,  and  Suza  Fairfield,  the 
belle  of  Port  William. 


SCENE  SEVENTH-WAR  BETWEEN  THE  STATES. 

The  late  civil  war  between  the  States  of  the  American 
Union  was  the  inevitable  result  of  two  civilizations  under  one 
government,  which  no  power  on  earth  could  have  prevented 
We  place  the  federal  and  confederate  soldier  m  the  same 
scale  */*,  and  one  will  not  weigh  the  other  down  an  atom. 
So  even  will  they  poise  that  you  may  mark  the  small  allow- 
ance of  the  weight  of  a  hair.     But  place  upon  the  beam  the 
pea  ot   their  actions  while  upon  the  stage,  on  either  side,  and 
the  poise  may  be  up  or  down. 

More  than  this,  your  orator  has  nothing  to  say  of  the 
war   except  its  effect  upon  the  characters  we  describe. 

'  The  bright  blossoms  of  a  May  morning  were  opening  to 
meet  the  sunlight,  while  the  surrounding  foliage  was  waving 
in  the  soft  breeze  ol  spring ;  on  the  southern  bank  of  the  beautt- 
,ul  Ohio,  where  the  momentous  events  of  the  future  were  con- 
cealed from  the  eyes  of  the  preceding  generation  by  the  dark 
veil  oi  the  coming  revolutions  of  the  globe. 

We  see  Cousin  Caesar  and  Cliff  Carlo  in  close  counsel, 
upon  the  subject  of  meeting  the  expenses  of  the  contest  at 
law  over  the  Simon  estate,  in  the  State  of  Arkansas 

Cliff  Carlo  was  rather   non-committal.     Roxte  Daymen 
was  a  near  relative,  and  the  unsolved  problem  in  the  case  of 
compromise  and  law  did  not  admit  of  haste  on  the  part  of  the 
Carlo  family.  Compromise  was  not  the  forte  of  Cousin  Cssar 
To  use  his  own  words,  "I  have  made  the  cast,  and wul  stand 
the  hazard  of  the  die." 


78  PEN    PICTURES. 

But  the  enterprise,  with  surrounding  circumstances, 
would  have  baffled  a  bolder  man  than  Cajsar  Simon.  The 
first  gun  of  the  war  had  been  fired  at  Fort  Sumter,  in  South 
Carolina,  on  the  12th  day  of  April,  1861. 

The  President  of  the  United  States  had  called  for  seven- 
ty-five thousand   war-like  men  to  redezvous   at  Washington 
City,  and  form  a  Pmtorian  guard,  to  strengthen  the  arm  of 
the  government.      To  arms,  to  arms!  was  the  cry  both  North 
and  South.     The  last  lingering  hope  of  peace  between  the 
States  had  faded  from  the  minds  of  all  men,  and  the  bloody 
crest  of  war  was  painted  on  the  horizon  of  the  future.     The 
border  slave  States,  in  the  hope  of  peace,  had  remained  inac- 
tive all  winter.     They  now  withdrew   from  the  Union    and 
joined  their  fortunes  with  the  South,  except  Kentucky — the 
dark  and  bloody  ground  historic  in  the  annals  of  war — showed 
the  white  feather,  and  announced  to  the  world  that  her  soil 
was  the  holy  ground  of  peace.     This    proclamation  was  too 
thin  for  Caesar  Simon.     Some  of  the  Carlo  family  had  long 
since  immigrated  to  Missouri.  To  consult  with  them  on  the  will 
affair,  and  meet  with  an  element  more  disposed  to  defend  his 
prospect  of   property,  Cousin  Caesar  left  Kentucky  for  Mis- 
souri.    On  the  fourth  day  of  July,  1861,  in  obedience  to  the 
cali  of  the  President,  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  met 
at  Washington  City.     This  Congress  called  to  the  contest  five 
hundred  thousand  men;    "cried havoc  and  let  slip  the  dogs  of 
war,"  and  Missouri  was  invaded  by  federal  troops,  who  were 
subsequently  put  under  the  command  of  Gen.  Lyon.     About 
the  middle  of  July  we  see  Cousin  Caesar  marching  in  the 
army  of  Gen.  Sterling  Price — an  army  composed  of  all  classes 
of  humanity,  who  rushed  to  the  conflict  without  promise  of 
pay  or  assistance  from  the  government  of   the  Confederate 
States  of    America— an  army  without   arms    or    equipment, 
except  such  as  it  gathered   from  the  citizens,  double-barreled 
shot-guns — an  army  of  volunteers  without  the  promise  of  pay 


PEN    PICTURES.  79 

•or  hope  of  reward;   composed  of  men  from  eighteen  to  seventy 
years  of  age,  with  a  uniform  of  costume  varying   from   the 
walnut  colored  roundabout  to  the  pigeon-tailed   broadcloth 
coat.     The  mechanic  and  the  farmer,  the  professional  and 
the  non-professional,  the  merchant  and  the  jobber,  the  specu 
lator   and  the   butcher,  the   country  schoolmaster   and   the 
printer's  devil,  the  laboring  man  and  the  dead-beat,  all  rushed 
into  Price's  army,  seemingly  under  the  influence  of  the  watch- 
word of  the  old  Jews,  "To your  tents,  O  Israel!"  and  it  is  a 
fact  worthy  of  record  that  this  unarmed  and  untrained  army 
never  lost  a  battle  on  Missouri  soil  in  the  first  year  of  the 
war.*     Gov.  Jackson  had  fled  from  Jefferson  City  on   the 
approach  of  the  federal  army,  and  assembled  the  Legislature  at 
Neosho,  in  the  southwest  corner  of  the  State,  who  were  una- 
ble to  assist  Price's  army.     The  troops  went  into  the  field, 
thrashed  the  wheat  and  milled  it  for  themselves;    were  often 
upon  half  rations,  and  frequently  lived  upon  roasting  ears. 
Except  the  Indian  or  border  war  in  Kentucky,  fought  by  a 
preceding  generation,  the  first  year  of  the  war  in  Missouri  is 
unparalleled   in  the  history  of  war  on  this  continent.     Gen. 
Price   managed    to   subsist   an  army  without    governmental 
resources.      His  men  were  never  demoralized  for  the  want  of 
food,  pay  or  clothing,   and    were  always    cheerful,   and  fre- 
quently danced  'round  their  camp-fires,  bare-footed  and  rag- 
ged, with  a  spirit  of  merriment  that  would  put  the  blush  upon 
the  cheek  of  a  circus.     Gen.   Price  wore   nothing   upon  his 
shoulders  but  a  brown  linen  duster,  and,  his  white  hair  stream- 
ing in  the  breeze  on  the  field  of  battle,  was  a  picture  resem- 
bling the  war-god  of  the  Romans  in  ancient  fable. 

This  army  of  ragged  heroes  marched  over  eight  hundred 
miles  on  Missouri  soil,  and  seldom  passed  a  week  without  an 
engagement  of  some  kind — it  was  confined  to  no  particular 

*The  so  called  battle  of  Boonville  was  a  rash  venture  of  citizens,  not  under  the 
command  cf  Gen.  Price  at  the  time.  •  i 


80  PEN    PICTURES. 

line  of  operations,  but  fought  the  enemy  wherever  thev  found 
him.  It  had  started  on  the  campaign  without  a  dollar,  with- 
out a  wagon,  without  a  cartridge,  and  without  a  bayonet- 
gun  ;  and  when  it  was  called  east  of  the  Missisippi  river,  it 
possessed  about  eight  thousand  bayonet-guns,  fifty  pieces  of 
cannon,  and  four  hundred  tents,  taken  almost  exclusively 
from  the  Federals,  on  the  hard-fought  fields  of  battle. 

When  this  army  crossed  the  Mississippi  river  the  star  of 
its  glory  had  set  never  to  rise  again.  The  invigorating  name 
of  state  rights  was  merged  in  the  Southern  Confederacy. 

With  this  prelude  to  surrounding  circumstances,  we  will 
now  follow  the  fortunes  of  Cousin  Caesar.  Enured  to  hard- 
ships in  early  life,  possessing  a  penetrating  mind  and  a  selfish 
disposition,  Cousin  Caesar  was  ever  ready  to  float  on  the 
stream  of  prosperity,  with  triumphant  banners,  cr  go  down 
as  drift  wood. 

And  whatever  he  may  have  lacked  in  manhood,  he  was 
as  brave  as  a  lion  on  the  battle-field ;  and  the  campaign  of 
Gen.  Price  in  Missouri  suited  no  private  soldier  better  than 
Caesar  Simon.  Like  all  soldiers  in  an  active  army, he  thought 
only  of  battle  and  amusement.  Consequently,  the  will, 
Gov.  Morock  and  the  Simon  estate  occupied  but  little  of 
Cousin  Caesar s  reflections.  One  idea  had  taken  possession 
of  him,  and  that  was  southern  victory.  He  enjoyed  the  tri- 
umphs of  his  fellow  soldiers,  and  ate  his  roasting  ears  with 
the  same  invigorating  spirit.  A  sober  second  thought  and 
cool  reflections  only  come  with  the  struggle  for  his  own  life, 
and  with  it  a  self-reproach  that  always,  sooner  or  later,  Over- 
takes the  faithless. 

The    battle  of   Oak    Hill,   usually  called  the   battle    of 
Springfield,  was  one  of  the  hardest  battles  fought  west  of  the 
Mississippi  river.     The    federal   troops,   under    Gen.   Lyon, 
amounted    to    nearly  ten   thousand    men.     The  confederate 


PEN    PICTURES.  81 

t  oops,  under  Generals  McCulloch,  Price,  and  Pearce,  were 
about  eleven  thousand  men. 

On  the  ninth  of  August  the  Confederates  camped  at 
Wilson's  Creek,  intending  to  advance  upon  the  Federals  at 
Springfield.  The  next  morning  General  Lyon  attacked  them 
before  sunrise0  The  battle  was  fought  with  rash  bravery  on 
both  sides.  General  Lyon,  after  having  been  twice  wounded, 
was  shot  dead  while  leading  a  rash  charge.  Half  the  loss  on 
the  Confederate  side  was  from  Price's  army — a  sad  memorial 
of  the  part  they  took  in  the  contest.  Soon  after  the  fall  of 
General  Lyon  the  Federals  retreated  to  Springfield,  and  left 
the  Confederates  master  of  the  field.  About  the  closing 
scene  of  the  last  struggle,  Cousin  Caesar  received  a  musket 
ball  in  the  right  leg,  and  fell  among  the  wounded  and  dying. 

The  wound  was  not  necessarily  fatal;  no  bone  was 
broken,  but  it  was  very  painful  and  bleeding  profusely. 
When  Cousin  Caesar,  after  lying  a  long  time  where  he  fell, 
realized  the  situation,  he  saw  that  without  assistance  he  must 
bleed  to  death  j  and  impatient  to  wait  for  some  one  to  pick 
him  up,  he  sought  quarters  by  his  own  exertions.  He  had 
managed  to  crawl  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  gave  out  at  a  point 
where  no  one  would  think  of  looking  for  the  wounded.  Weak 
from  the  loss  of  blood,  he  could  crawl  no  farther.  The  light 
of  day  was  only  discernable  in  the  dim  distance  of  the  West; 
the  Angel  of  silence  had  spread  her  wing  over  the  bloody 
battle  field.  In  vain  Cousin  Caesar  pressed  his  hand  upon 
the  wound ;  the  crimson  life  would  ooze  out  between  his  fin- 
gers, and  Cousin  Caesar  lay  down  to  die.  It  was  now  dark; 
no  light  met  his  eye,  and  no  sound  came  to  his  ear,  save  the 
song  of  two  grasshoppers  in  a  cluster  of  bushes — one  sang 
"  Katie-did!  "  and  the  other  sang  "  Katie-didn't !"  Cousin 
Caesar  said,  mentally,  "It  will  soon  be  decided  with  me 
whether  Katie  did  or  whether  she  didn't !  Jn  the  last  mo- 
ments of  hope  Cousin  Caesar  heard  and  recognized  the  sound 

6 


82  PEN    PICTURES. 

of  a  human  voice,  and  gathering  all  the  strength  of  his  lungs, 
pronounced  the  word — "S-t-e-v-e!  "  In  a  short  time  he  saw 
two  men  approaching  him.  It  was  Steve  Brindle  and  a  Cher- 
okee Indian.  As  soon  as  they  saw  the  situation,  the  Indian 
darted  like  a  wild  deer  to  where  there  had  been  a  camp  fire, 
and  returned  with  his  cap  full  of  ashes  which  he  applied  to 
Cousin  Caesar's  wound.  Steve  Brindle  bound  it  up  and 
stopped  the  blood.  The  two  men  then  carried  the  wounded 
man  to  camp — to  recover  and  reflect  upon  the  past.  Steve 
Brindle  was  a  private,  in  the  army  of  General  Pearce,  from 
Arkansas,  and  the  Cherokee  Indian  was  a  camp  follower  be- 
longing to  the  army  of  General  McCulloch.  They  were  look- 
ing over  the  battle  field  in  search  of  their  missing  friends, 
when  they  accidentally  discovered  and  saved  Cousin  Caesar, 

Early  in  the  month  of  September,  Generals  McCulloch 
and  Price  having  disagreed  on  the  plan  of  campaign,  General 
Price  announced  to  his  officers  his  intention  of  moving  north, 
and  required  a  report  of  effective  men  in  his  army.  A  lieu- 
tenant,  after  canvassing  the  company  to  which  Cousin  Caesar 
belonged,  went  to  him  as  the  last  man.  Cousin  Caesar  re- 
ported ready  for  duty.  "  All  right,  you-  are  the  last  man — » 
No.  77,"  said  the  lieutenant,  hastily,  leaving  Cousin  Caesar 
to  his  reflections.  "There  is  that  number  again;  what  can 
it  mean  ?     Marching  north,  perhaps  to  meet  a  large  force,  is 

our  company  to  be  reduced  to  seven  ?     One  of  them  d d 

figure  sevens  would  fall  off  and  one  would  be  left  on  the  pin. 
How  should  it  be  counted — s-e-v-e-n  or  half?  Set  up  two  guns 
and  take  one  away,  half  would  be  left ;  enlist  two  men,  and 

if  one  is  killed,  half  would  be  left — yet,  with  these  d d 

figures,  when  you  take  one  you  only  have  one  eleventh  part 
left.  Cut  by  the  turn  of  fortune;  cut  with  short  rations;  cut 
with  a  musket  ball ;  cut  by  self-reproach — ah,  thafs  the  deepest 
cut  of  all!"  said  Cousin  Caesar,  mentally,  as  he  retired  to  the 
tent. 


PEN    PICTURES.  83 

Steve  Brindle  had  saved  Cousin  Caesar's  life,  had  been 
an  old  comrade  in  many  a  hard  game,  had  divided  his  last 
cent  with  him  in  many  hard  places,  had  given  him  his  family 
history  and  opened  the  door  for  him  to  step  into  the  palace 
of  wealth.  Yet,  when  Cousin  Caesar  was  surrounded  with 
wealth  and  power,  when  honest  employment  would,  in  al1 
human  possibility,  have  redeemed  his  old  comrade,  Cousin 
Caesar,  willing  to  conceal  his  antecedents,  did  not  know 
S-t-e-v-e  Brindle. 

General  Price  reached  the  Missouri  river,  at  Lexington, 
on  the  1 2  th  of  September,  and  on  the  20th  captured  a  Fed- 
eral force  intrenched  there,  under  the  command  of  Crlonel 
Mulligan,  from  whom  he  obtained  five  cannon,  two  mortars 
and  over  three  thousand  bayonet  guns.  In  fear  of  large 
Federal  forces  north  of  the  Missouri  river,  General  Price 
retreated  south.  Cousin  Caesar  was  again  animated  with  the 
spirit  of  war  and  had  dismissed  the  superstitious  fear  of  77 
from  his  mind.  He  continued  his  amusements  'round  the 
camp  fires  in  Price's  army,  as  he  said,  mentally,  "  Governor 
Morock  will  keep  things  straight,  at  his  office  on  Strait  street, 
in  Chicago." 

Roxie  Daymon  had  pleasantly  passed  the  summer  and 
fall  on  the  reputation  of  being  rich,  and  was  always  the  toast 
in  the  fashionable  parties  of  the  upper-ten  in  Chicago. 
During  the  first  year  of  the  war  it  was  emphatically  announced 
by  the  government  at  Washington,  that  it  would  never  inter- 
fere with  the  slaves  of  loyal  men.  Roxie  Daymon  was  loyal 
and  lived  in  a  loyal  city.  It  was  war  times,  and  Roxie  had 
received  no  dividends  from  the  Simon  estate . 

In  the  month  of  January,  1862,  the  cold  north  wind 
from  the  lakes  swept  the  dust  from  the  streets  in  Chicago,  and 
seemed  to  warn  the  secret,  silent  thoughts  of  humanity  of  the 
great  necessity  of  m-o-n-e-y. 

The  good  Angel  of  observation  saw  Roxie  Daymon,  with 


84:  PEN    PICTURES. 

a  richly-trimmed  fur  cloak  upon  her  shoulders  and  hands 
muffed,  walking  swiftly  on  Strait  street,  m  Chicago,  watching 
the  numbers— at  No..  77  she  disappeared. 

The  good  Angel  opened  his  ear  and  has  furnished  us 
with  the  following  conversation; 

11 1  have  heard  incidentally  that  Caesar  Simon  is  prepar 
fng  to  break  ihe  will  of  my  esteemed  friend,  Young  Simon,  of 
Arkansas,"  said  Roxie,  sadly. 

'•  Is  itp-o-s  s-i-b-i  e?"  said  Governor  Morock,  affecting  as- 
tonishment, and  then  continued,  '  'More  work  for  the  lawyers, 
you  know  I  am  always  liberal,  madam."  <;  But  do  you  think 
it  possible  ?  "  said  Roxie,  inquiringly.  ' i  You  have  money 
enough  to  fight  with,  madam,  money  enough  to  fight,"  said 
the  Governor,  decidedly.  "I  suppose  we  will  have  to  prove 
that  Simon  was  in  full  possession  of  his  mental  faculties  at  the 
time.'"'  said  Roxie,  with  legal  acumen.  "  Certainly,  certainly 
madam,  money  will  prove  anything  ;  will  prove  anything, 
madam/  said  the  Governor,  rubbing  his  hands.  "1  believe 
you  were  the  only  person  present  at  the  time,"  said  Roxie, 
honestly. 

"I  am  always  liberal,  madam,  a  few  thousands  will 
arrange  the  testimony,  madam.  Leave  that  to  me,  if  you 
please,"'  and  in  a  softer  tone  of  voice  the  Governor  continued, 
"you  ought  to  pick  up  the  crumbs,  madam,  pick  up  the 
crumbs."  "I  would  like  to  do  so  for  I  have  never  spent  a 
cent  in  the  prospect  of  the  estate,  though  my  credit  is  good 
for  thousands  in  this  city.  .  I  want  to  see  how  a  dead  man's 
choes  will  fit  before  I  wear  them,"  said  Roxie,  sadly. 

"Good  philosophy,  madam,  good  philosophy,"  said  the 
Governor,  and  continued  to  explain.  "There  is  cotton  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  at  the  Simon  plantations.  Some 
arrangement  ought  to  be  made,  and  I  think  I  could  do  it 
through  some  officer  of  the  federal  army, "said  the  Governor, 


PEN   PICTURES.  <$5 

rubbing  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  and  continued,  "  that's 
what  I  mean  by  picking  up  the  crumbs,  madam." 

"How  much  ?  "  said  Roxie,  preparing  to  leave  the  office. 

"I  am  always  liberal,  madam,  always  liberal.  Let  mc 
see  ;  it  is  attended  with  some  difficulty;  can't  leave  the  city; 
too  much  business  pressing  (rubbing  his  hands) ;  well  —  well 
—  I  will  pick  up  the  crumbs  for  half.  Think  I  can  secure 
two  or  three  hundred  bales  of  cotton,  madam,"  said  the 
Governor,  confidentially. 

"How  much  is  a  bale  of  cotton  worth?"  said  Roxie, 
affecting  ignorance. 

"Only  four  hundred  dollars,  madam;  nothing  but  a 
crumb  —  nothing  but  a  crumb,  madam,"  said  the  Governor, 
in  a  tone  of  flattery. 

"Do  the  best  you  can,"  said  Roxie,  in  a  confidential 
tone,  as  she  left  the  office. 

Governor  Morock  was  enjoying  the  reputation  of  the 
fashionable  lawyer  among  the  upper-ten  in  Chicago.  Roxie 
Daymon's  good  sense  condemned  him,  but  she  did  not  feel 
at  liberty  to  break  the  line  of  association. 

Cliff  Carlo  did  nothing  but  write  a  letter  of  inquiry  to 
Governor  Morock,  who  informed  him  that  the  Simon  estate 
was  worth  more  than  a  million  and  a  quarter,  and  that 
m-o-n-e-y  would  break  the  will. 

The  second  year  of  the  war  burst  the  bubble  of  peace 
in  Kentucky.  The  State  was  invaded  on  both  sides.  The 
clang  of  arms  on  the  soil  where  the  heroes  of  a  preceding 
generation  slept,  called  the  martial  spirits  in  the  shades  of 
Kentucky  to  rise  and  shake  off  the  delusion  that  peace  and 
pienty  breed  cowards.  Cliff  Carlo,  and  many  others  of  the 
brave  sons  of  Kentucky,  united  with  the  southern  armies, 
and  fully  redeemed  their  war  like  character,  as  worthy  de- 
scendents  of  the  heroes  of  the  dark  and  bloody  ground. 

Cliff  Carlo  passed  through  the  struggles  of  the  war  with- 


36  PEN    PICTURES. 

out  a  sick  day  or  the  pain  of  a  wound.     We  must,  therefore, 
follow  the  fate  of  the  less  fortunate  Caesar  Simon. 

During  the  winter  of  the  first  year  of  the  war,  Price's 
army  camped  en  the  southern  border  of  Missouri. 

On  the  third  day  of  March,  1862,  Maj.  Gen.  Earl  Van 
Dorn,  of  the  Confederate  government,  assumed  the  command 
of  the  troops  under  Price  and  McCulloch,  and  on  the  seventh 
day  of  March  attacked  the  Federal  forces  under  Curtis  and 
Sturgis,  twenty-five  thousand  strong,  at  Elkhorn,  Van  Dorn 
commanding  about  twenty  thousand  men. 

Price's  army  constituted  the  left  and  center,  with  Mc- 
Culloch on  the  right.  The  fight  was  long  and  uncertain. 
About  two  o'clock  McCulloch  fell,  and  his  forces  failed  to 
press  the  contest. 

The  Federals  retreated  in  good  order,  leaving  the  Con- 
federates master  of  the  situation. 

For  some  unaccountable  decision  on  the  part  of  Gen. 
Van  Dorn,  a  retreat  of  the  southern  army  was  ordered,  and 
instead  of  pursuing  the  Federals,  the  wheels  of  the  Southern 
army  were  seen  rolling  south. 

Gen.  Van  Dorn  had  ordered  the  sick  and  disabled  many 
miles  in  advance  of  the  army.  Cousin  Caesar  had  passed 
through  the  conflict  safe  and  sound ;  it  was  a  camp  rumor 
ihat  Steve  Brindle  was  mortally  wounded  and  sent  forward 
with  the  sick.  The  mantle  of  night  hung  over  Price's  army, 
and  the  camp  fires  glimmered  in  the  soft  breeze  of  the  even- 
ing. Silently  and  alone  Cousin  Caesar  stole  away  from  the 
scene  on  a  mission  of  love  and  duty.  Poor  Steve  Brindle 
had  ever  been  faithful  to  him,  and  Cousin  Caesar  had  suffered 
self-reproach  for  his  unaccountable  neglect  of  a  faithful  friend. 
An  opportunity  now  presented  itself  for  Cousin  Caesar  to 
relieve  his  conscience  and  possibly  smooth  the  dying  pillow 
of  his  faithful  friend,  Steve  Brindle. 

Bravely  and  fearlessly  on  he  sped  and  arrived   at  the 


PEN    PICTURES.  3^ 

camp  of  the  sick.  Worn  down  with  the  march,  Cousin 
Caesar  never  rested  until  he  had  looked  upon  the  face  of  the 
last  sick  man.     Steve  was  not  there. 

Slowly  and  sadly  Cousin  Caesar  returned  to  the  army, 
making  inquiry  of  every  one  he  met  for  Steve  Brindle.  After 
a  long  and  fruitless  inquiry,  an  Arkansas  soldier  handed 
Cousin  Ciesar  a  card,  saying,  "  I  was  requested  by  a  soldier 
in  our  command  to  hand  this  card  to  the  man  whose  name  it 
bears,  in  Price's  army."  Cousin  Caesar  took  the  card  and 
read,  "Csaear  Simon — No.  77  deserted."  Cousin  Caesar 
threw  the  card  down  as  though  it  was  nothings  as  he  said 
mentally,  "What  can  it  mean.  There  are  those  d — d  figures 
again.  Steve  knew  nothing  of  No.  77  in  Chicago.  How 
am  I  to  understand  this  ?  Steve  understood  my  ideas  of  the 
mysterious  No.  77  on  the  steam  carriage.  Steve  has  deserted 
and  takes  this  plan  to  inform  me.  Ah!  that  is  it!  Steve  has 
couched  the  information  in  language  that  no  one  can  under- 
stand but  myself.  Two  of  us  were  on  the  carriage  and  two 
figure  sevens ;  one  would  fall  off  the  pin.  Steve  has  fallen  off. 
He  knew  I  would  understand  his  card  when  no  one  else 
could.  But  did  Steve  only  wish  me  to  understand  that  he 
had  left,  or  did  he  wish  me  to  follow  ?  "  was  a  problem  Cousin 
Caesar  was  unable  to  decide.  It  was  known  to  Cousin 
Caesar  that  the  Cherokee  Indian  who,  in  company  with  Steve, 
saved  his  life  at  Springfield,  had,  in  company  with  some  of 
his  race,  been  brought  upon  the  stage  of  war  by  Albert  Pike. 
Deserted !  And  Cousin  Caesar  was  left  alone,  with  no  bosom 
friend  save  the  friendship  of  one  southern  soldier  for  another, 
And  the  idea  of  desertion  entered  the  brain  of  Caesar  Simon 
for  the  first  time. 

Caesar  Simon  was  a  born  soldier,  animated  by  the  clang 
of  arms  and  roar  of  battle,  and  although  educated  in  the 
school  of  treacherous  humanity,  he  was  one  of  the  few  who 
resolved  to  die  in  the  last  ditch,  and  he  concluded  his  reflec- 


88  PEN  PICTURES. 

tions  with  the  sarcastic  remark,  "Steve  Brindle  is  a  coward." 
Before  Gen.  Van  Dorn  faced  the  enemy  again,  he  was 
called  east  of  the  Mississippi  river.  Price's  army  embarked 
at  Des  Arc,  on  White  river,  and  when  the  last  man  was  on 
board  the  boats,  there  were  none  more  cheerful  than  Cousin 
Caesar.  He  was  going  to  fight  on  the  soil  of  his  native  State, 
for  it  was  generally  understood  the  march  by  water  was  to 
Memphis,  Tennessee. 

It  is  said  that  a  portion  of  Price's  army  showed  the 
white  feather  at  Iuka.  Cousin  Caesar  was  not  in  that  division 
of  the  army.  After  that  event  he  was  a  camp  lecturer,  and 
to  him  the  heroism  of  the  army  owes  a  tribute  in  memory 
for  the  brave  hand  to  hand  fight  in  the  streets  of  Corinth, 
where,  from  house  to  house  and  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
Rosecrans-'  headquarters,  Price's  men  made  the  Federals  fly. 
But  the  Federals  were  reinforced  from  their  outposts,  and 
Gen.  Van  Dorn  was  in  command,  and  the  record  says  he 
made  a  rash  attack  and  a  hasty  retreat. 

Maj.  Gen.  T.  C.  Hindman  was  the  southern  commander 
of  what  was  called  the  district  of  Arkansas  west  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi river.  He  was  a  petty  despot  as  well  as  an  unsuc- 
cessful commander  of  an  army.  The  country  suffered  un- 
paralleled abuses;  crops  were  ravaged,  cotton  burned,  and 
the  magnificent  palaces  of  the  southern  planter  licked  up  by 
flames.  The  torch  was  applied  frequently  by  an  unknown 
hand.  The  Southern  commander  burned  cotton  to  prevent 
its  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Straggling  soldiers 
belonging  to  distant  commands  traversed  the  country,  robbing 
the  people  and  burning.  How  much  of  this  useless  destruc- 
tion is  chargable  to  Confederate  or  Federal  commanders,  it 
is  impossible  to  determine.  Much  of  the  waste  inflicted  upon 
the  country  was  by  the  hand  of  lawless  guerrillas.  Four  hun- 
dred bales  of  cotton  were  burned  on  the  Simon  plantation, 
and  the  residence  on  the  home  plantation,  that  cost  S.  S. 


PEN  PICTURES.  89 

Simon  over  sixty-five  thousand  dollars,  was  nothing  but  a 
heap  of  ashes. 

Governor  Morock's  agents  never  got  any  crumbs,  al- 
though the  Governor  had  used  nearly  all  of  the  thousand 
dollars  obtained  from  Cousin  Caesar  to  pick  up  the  crumbs  on 
the  Simon  plantations,  he  never  got  a  crumb. 

General  Hindman  was  relieved  of  his  command  west 
of  the  Mississippi,  by  President  Davis.  Generals  Kirby, 
Smith,  Holmes  and  Price  subsequently  commanded  the 
Southern  trocps  west  of  the  great  river.  The  federals  had 
fortified  Helena,  a  point  three  hundred  miles  above  Vicks 
burg  on  the  west  bank  of  the  river.  They  had  three  forts 
with  a  gun-boat  lying  in  the  river,  and  were  about  four 
thousand  strong.  They  were  attacked  by  General  Holmes, 
on  the  4th  day  of  July,  1863.  General  Holmes  had  under 
his  command  General  Price's  division  of  infantry,  about 
fourteen  hundred  men;  Fagans  brigade  of  Arkansas, 
infantry,  numbering' fifteen  hundred  men,  and  Marmaduke's 
division  of  Arkansas,  and  Missouri  cavalry,  about  two 
thousand,  making  a  total  of  four  thousand  and  nine  hundred 
men.  Marmaduke  was  ordered  to  attack  the  northern  fort ; 
Fagan  was  to  attack  the  southern  fort,  and  General  Price 
the  center  fort.  The  onset  to  be  simultaneously  and  at  day- 
light. 

General  Price  carried  his  position.  Marmaduke  and 
Fagan  failed.  The  gun-boat  in  the  river  shelled  the  captured 
fort.  Price's  men  sheltered  themselves  as  best  they  could 
awaiting  further  orders.  The  scene  was  alarming  above 
description  to  Price's  men.  It  was  the  holiday  of  American 
Independence.  The  failure  of  their  comrades  in  arms  would 
compel  them  to  retreat  under  a  deadly  fire  from  the  enemy. 
While  thus  waiting,  the  turn  of  battle  crouched  beneath  an 
old  stump.  Cousin  Caesar  saw  in  the  distance  and  recog- 
nized Steve  Brindle,  he  was  a  soldier  in  the  federal  army. 


90  PEN    PICTURES. 

"  Oh  treacherous  humanity !  must  I  live  to  learn  thee  still 
Steve  Brindle  fights  for  m-o-n-e-y  ?"  said  Caesar  Simon, 
mentally.  The  good  Angel  of  observation  whispered  in  his 
ear:  "  Caesar  Simon  fights  for  land  stripped  of  its  ornaments. 
Cousin  Caesar  scanned  the  situation  and  continued  to  say, 
mentally:  "  Life  is  a  sentence  of  punishment  passed  by  the 
court  of  existence  on  every  private  soldier" 

The  battle  field  is  the  place  of  execution,  and  rash 
commanders  are  often  the  executioners.  After  repeated 
efforts  General  Holmes  failed  to  carry  the  other  positions. 
The  retreat  of  Price's  men  was  ordered  ;  it  was  accomplished 
with  heavy  loss.  Caesar  Simon  fell,  and  with  him  perished 
the  last  link  in  the  chain  of  the  Simon  family  in  the  male 
line. 

We  must  now  let  the  curtain  fall  upon  the  sad  events  of 
the  war  until  the  globe  makes  nearly  two  more  revolutions 
'round  the  sun  in  its  orbit,  and  then  we  see  the  Southern 
soldiers  weary  and  war-worn — sadly  deficient  in  numbers — 
lay  down  their  arms — the  war  is  ended.  The  Angel  of 
peace  has  spread  her  golden  wing  from  Maine  to  Florida, 
and  from  Virginia  to  California.  The  proclamation  of  free- 
dom, by  President  Lincoln,  knocked  the  dollars  and  cents 
out  of  the  flesh  and  blood  of  every  slave  on  the  Simon  plan- 
tations. Civil  courts  are  in  session.  The  last  foot  of  the 
Simon  land  has  been  sold  at  sheriff's  sale  to  pay  judgments, 
just  and  unjust. 

The  goose  that  laid  the  golden  egg 
Has  paddled  across  the  river. 

Governor  Morock  has  retired  from  the  profession,  or 
the  profession  has  retired  from  him.  He  is  living  on  the 
cheap  sale  of  a  bad  reputation — that  is—  all  who  wish  dirty 
work  performed  at  a  low  price  employ  Governor  Morock. 

Roxie  Daymon  has  married  a  young  mechanic,  and  is 
happy  in  a  cottage   home.     She  blots  the  memory  of  the 


PEN  PICTURES.  91 

past  by  reading  the  poem  entitled,  "The  Workman's  Satur- 
day Night." 

Cliff  Carlo    is  a  prosperous   farmer  in   Kentucky   and 
subscriber  for 


The  Rough  Diamond. 


"3?— ♦ 


History,  Science,  Philosophy  and  Art, 


BLENDED  IN  ORIGINAL  LECTURES. 


LECTURE  I.— LIBERTY  AND  LAW. 

The  soul  of  no  sane  man  was  ever  so  dead,  that  it  could 
not  be  aroused  from  lethargy  by  the  invigorating  name  of 
liberty. 

Human  speech  has  never  couched  in  shape  and  form  any 
word  more  sacred  to  mortal  ear  than  liberty. 

Dearer  than  life  to  the  patriotic  heart,  as  expressed  by 
the  great  American  orator  when  he  said,  "  Give  me  liberty  or 
give  me  death. " 

Strange,  but  still  'tis  true,  no  philosopher  has  ever  told 
us  what  liberty  is. 

Looking  back  o'er  the  dark  centuries  of  the  past  we  ob- 
serve representative  men  among  all  nations  arousing  the 
people  with  the  old  watch  word,  liberty. 

Julius  Caesar,  Charlemagne,  William  the  Conqueror, 
Napoleon  Bonaparte,  and  all  great  leaders  of  revolutions, 
raised  the  universal  cry  of  oppression  and  fought  under  the 
banner  of  liberty. 

All  nations  have  not  lived  under  the  same  government, 


94  PEN   PICTURES. 

hence  it  is  evident  that  liberty  itself  must  change  with  the 
times  and  circumstances. 

When  liberty  is  spoken  of  every  one  has  an  idea  of  what 
is  meant,  for  every  one  has  known  what  it  is  to  live  in  free- 
dom, and  also  what  it  is  to  live  and  act  under  restraint. 

But  then  it  is  obvious,  that  different  persons  enjoy  liberty 
according  to  circumstances. 

Things  that  infringe  upon  the  liberty  of  some,  have  no 
such  effect  upon  the  liberty  of  others. 

So,  in  a  situation  where  one  would  feel  at  liberty,  another 
would  feel  himself  in  bofidage. 

Hence  it  is  evident,  though  all  have  a  general  idea  of 
what  liberty  is,  that  all  have  not  the  same  idea  of  it. 

For,  as  different  persons  would  not  all  feel  free  under 
the  same  circumstances,  it  follows  that  liberty  itself  is  not  the 
same  thing  at  all. 

A  man  educated  in  the  law  feels  free  in  his  library,  force 
him  to  the  handles  of  the  plow  and  he  would  feel  himself  in 
bondage. 

Ah !  Liberty — what  is  Liberty  ? 
The  Goddess  adored  by  primitive  man, 
In  olden  times,  when  justice  first  began, 
With  weights  and  balances  in  her  hand, 
Reigned  triumphant  o'er  the  Grecian  land. 
Some  ancient  sage,  the  brilliant  Goddess  saw, 
At  first  sight  lov'd,  and  changed  her  name  to  law, 
And  then  the  duties  of  domestic  life 
Incumbent  to  her,  as  to  every  wife. 
Wooed  by  millions  since  that  wedding  day, 
All  of  her  suitors  are  compelled  to  say, 
Individuals  must  their  freedom  draw, 
From  the  union  of  liberty  and  law. 

But  says  one,  is  the  universal  cry  of  liberty  nothing  but 
a  name  ?  is  there  no  such  thing  as  national  liberty  ?  There 
is — all  nations  have  the  inherent  right  to  make  their  own  laws 


PEN  PICTURES;  95 

or  in  other  words  to  lay  the  foundation  of  their  own  liberties. 

But  as  to  individual  liberty,  outside  of  law,  there  is  no 
such  thing. 

Law  is  a  universal  rule  by  which  the  conduct  of  all  is 
measured,  the  regulator  of  society,  adopted  anciently  by 
kings  and  rulers,  modernly  by  the  people  who  are  the  sov- 
ereigns of  this  land. 

The  first  definition  of  the  word  law  is,  power  or  force ; 
the  laws  of  nature  are  the  result  of  the  power  of  the  unseen 
hand — the  hand  of  the  ruler  of  the  Universe. 

The  laws  of  society  originate  with  wise  and  just  men, 
and  ripen  into  the  laws  of  the  land ;  the  power  of  the  ruler 
is  the  first  principle  of  all  law. 

The  first  definition  of  the  word  liberty  is  freedom  from 
restraint,  in  the  union  of  liberty  and  law ;  one  is  free  from 
restraint  as  measured  by  the  rule  of  the  law. 

To  be  entirely  free  from  restraint  would  be  enjoyed  by 
few  men,  and  it  has  been  wisely  said,  "Where  there  is  no 
law  there  is  no  freedom." 

Place  a  man  upon  an  island,  solitary  and  alone — 

"And  from  the  center,  all  round  to  the  sea, 
He  would  be  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed." 

But  the  moment  another  man  landed  upon  the  island,  to 
have  association  together,  each  man  would  be  under  restraint. 

The  force  of  necessity  would  compel  them  to  form  the 
blossom  of  society,  and  from  the  customs  of  society  and 
fruits  of  association  we  lay  the  foundation  of  the  laws  of 
the  land. 

In  all  modern  nations  the  people  are  indirectly  the  law 
making  power.  Public  opinion  is  the  blossom  of  law,  for 
vhen  it  is  raised  sufficiently  high  its  power  is  irresistible. 

Charles  the  First,  of  England,  and  Louis  the  Sixteenth, 
of  France,  could  not  resist  public  opinion. 


96  PEN  PICTURES. 

Justice  is  the  object  in  view  when  we  appeal  to  the  law, 
and  the  proper  administration  of  the  law  is  justice  according 
to  law. 

While  justice  is  the  object  of  law  in  the  first  place,  and 
the  proper  administration  of  law  in  the  second  place,  one 
may  receive  justice  according  to  law,  but  it  will  be  justice 
only  in  proportion  to  the  justness  of  the  jaw. 

Many  things  considered  just  by  primitive  society  fall  far 
short  of  justice  in  more  advanced  civilization. 

All  nations  shape  most  of  their  laws  according  to  circum- 
stances, and  as  time  changes  or  ameliorates  circumstances, 
we  say  the  times  have  changed  and  so  have  the  laws. 

But  says  one,  if  liberty  is  regulated  by  law,  uniform  law 
should  produce  uniform  restraint;  or,  in  other  words,  under 
the  same  laws  all  should  enjoy  the  same  liberties. 

Why  is  it  the  beggar  is  drummed  out  of  town  for  stealing 
a  loaf  of  bread  while  the  millionaire  steals  thousands  with 
impunity  ? 

Human  laws,  unlike  divine  laws,  do  not  operate  of 
themselves ;  they  are  put  in  force  by  human  hands.  Officers 
of  the  law  like  other  men  are  more  or  less  governed  by  cir- 
cumstances. 

Self  and  self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  human  nature 
and  few  men  can  stand  above  the  influence  of  circumstances, 
and  thus  money  has  ever  ameliorated  crime. 

When  a  man  who  has  plenty  of  money  breaks  the  law 
there  are  a  thousand  eyes  turned  in  every  direction  to  find 
some  excuse — every  nook  and  corner  is  canvassed  to  pick  up 
something  to  palliate  the  crime. 

But  reverse  the  rule  and  apply  it  to  the  moneyless  man — 
no  eye  is  opened  by  self-interest,  or  turned  round  by  the 
greedy  love  of  gold. 


PEN    PICTURES.  97 

Justice  and  judges,  as  cold  as  the  Jews, 
Will  meet  in  the  court  and  give  him  his  dues ; 
No  plea  has  been  found,  since  justice  began, 
To  lie  in  court  for  a  moneyless  man. 

While  many  of  our  laws  are  permanent,  the  administra- 
tion of  them  is  frequently  influenced  by  the  surrounding  cir- 
cumstances. 

The  laws  of  human  nature  and  the  laws  of  society  fre- 
quently come  in  conflict.  Our  ideas  and  natural  inclinations 
are  not  all  free — like  individual  persons,  they  are  free  only 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  mind. 

The  laws  of  the  mind  govern,  to  some  extent,  the  actions 
of  men.  For  we  cannot  assume  that  all  men  are  held  under 
restraint  only  by  the  laws  of  society,  or  the  laws  of  the  land. 

The  laws  of  organism  govern  all  regulated  minds — hence 
when  reason  fails  to  assert  authority  over  the  mind,  the  pas- 
sions are  not  under  control — they  are  left  free  and  will  grasp 
satisfaction. 

An  eminent  mental  philosopher  said,  ' '  Man  is  happy  in 
proportion  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  mental  faculties."  I 
should  rather  say — Man  is  happy  in  proportion  to  the  capa- 
bility of  his  mind  to  govern  itself. 

The  laws  of  organism  govern  all  well  regulated  minds. 
The  eye  is  a  mental  organ  of  the  mind — in  fact,  it  is  but  the 
end  of  a  mental  nerve,  and,  if  correctly  organized,  the  light 
is  made  manifest  to  the  brain— and  thus  we  see.  All  of  our 
mental  organs  are  like  the  eye,  they  receive  their  influence 
externally.  We  are  creatures  operated  upon  by  circum- 
stances. The  savage  man  belongs  to  savage  circumstances 
— and  the  civilized  man  to  civilized  circumstances. 

The  laws  of  savage  life,  or  human  nature,  incline  all  men 
to  dishonesty— it  is  natural  for  a  man  to  take  advantage  of 
others,  to  gratify  his  passions;  the  laws  of  civilization  is  the 
only  restraint. 


98  PEN   PICTURES. 

Universal  marriage  as  soon  as  maturity  arrives,  is  the 
natural  impulse  of  youth. 

To  take  possession  of  anything  as  soon  as  it  .s  deserted, 
or  laid  aside  by  another,  is  the  natural  impulse  of  the  savage. 
Honesty,  virtue,  and  manhood  all  arise  from  our  laws  and 
civilization.  Hence,  we  see  primitive  men  all  rogues.  And 
I  am  sorry  to  say  some  cling  with  unabating  tenacity  to  a 
long  line  of  ancestors. 

My  countrymen  pay  much  attention  to  the  improvement 
of  their  stock,  read  long  pedigrees  and  pay  high  prices  for  a 
cow.  The  cow  is  valued  not  for  what  she  possesses,  but  for 
her  blood.  When  they  come  to  select  a  wife,  the  first  in- 
quiry is  what  does  she  possess  ?  what  is  she  worth  ?  They 
seldom  inquire  whether  her  physical  and  mental  abilities  are 
suitable  to  them  as  individuals,  whether  the  family  will  be 
on  the  up  or  the  down  grade.  Until  the  union  of  men  and 
women  is  effected  with  more  judgment,  progress  in  the  human 
race  must  depend  entirely  upon  education. 

That  our  civilization  can  make  no  farther  advances,  is 
one  of  the  great  errors  of  the  age. 

Some  of  our  customs  and  laws  that  have  oeen  in  vogue 
since  the  dawn  of  history,  can  and  will  be  set  aside. 

All  men  venerate  antiquity,  and  to  part  with  an  old  idea, 
or  change  our  view  of  ancient  justice,  and  venerated  customs, 
handed  down  from  one  generation  to  another,  through  the 
long  centuries  of  the  past,  is  like  burying  an  old  friend — he 
is  gone,  but  we  cannot  forget  him. 

And  thus  we  hold  on  with  unabating  tenacity  to  the 
customs  of  our  fathers.  A  man  may  boast  of  a  long  line  of 
learned  ancestors,  and  flatter  himself  with  the  idea  that  he  was 
bred  in  a  high  state  of  civilization,  while  in  truth  he  is  at  best 
only  a  half  breed.  •  As  long  as  money  elevates  family,  few 
can  claim  to  be  more  than  half  bloods. 

The  laws  of  hereditary  descent  in  connection  with  educa- 


PEN   PICTURES,  99 

:ion,  are  the  two  great  powers  that  must  eventually  carry  the 
human  race  to  the  millennium. 

The  Jews  are  the  most  distinguished  of  the  nations  of 
antiquity,  who  established  divine  laws.  The  civil  law  origi- 
nated with  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  the  gods  they  worshipped 
were  a  superstitious  representation  of  the  human  passions,  and 
their  laws  originated  from  the  customs  of  the  people,  and 
were  at  first  denominated  civil  laws,  to  distinguish  them  from 
the  laws  of  other  nations.  Later — the  term  civil  law  was 
used  to  distinguish  the  customs  and  laws  of  the  State,  from 
the  canon  laws  or  laws  of  the  church. 

The  laws  called  the  laws  of  Solon  and  of  Lycurgus,  and 
other  ancient  statesmen,  did  not  originate  with  these  men; 
they  only  organized  a  code  of  laws  founded  upon  the  customs 
of  the  people,  and  suitable  to  the  times  in  which  they  lived. 

During  the  rise  of  the  Roman  Empire,  subjugated  pro- 
vinces, while  they  were  compelled  to  pay  tribute  to  Rome, 
were  still  permitted  to  live  according  to  their  own  customs, 
and  be  judged  by  their  own  laws. 

After  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  new  German  States 
were  founded  in  the  west,  in  which  the  immigrated  Germans 
and  conquered  Romans  lived  together  under  the  same  govern- 
ment. The  Germans  had  separate  laws  and  customs  of  their 
own  preserved  in  their  new  settlements,  while  the  subdued 
Romans,  living  among  them,  continued  to  use  their  own 
laws  and  customs,  and  were  judged  according  to  them. 

Hence  we  see  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people 
that  are  to  be  governed,  lay  the  foundation  of  their  laws. 
We  should  therefore  adopt  new  manners  and  customs  with 
great  caution,  while  upon  the  other  hand,  old  manners  and 
customs  that  are  deleterious  to  the  well  being  of  society, 
should  be  set  aside  with  firmness,  for  as  certain  as  the  man- 
ners and  customs  of  the  dead  generations  have  ripened  into 
the  laws  of  the  living,  the  manners  and  Customs  of  the  living 


100  PEN    PICTURES. 

will  ripen  into  the  laws  or  the  coming  generations  of  men. 

The  common  law,  as  recognized  to-day,  orignated  from 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  English  people,  and  was  at 
first  designated  the  unwritten  law,  but  we  must  not  under- 
stand from  this  that  the  statute,  or  written  law,  did  not  origi- 
nate in  the  same  way,  for  we  know  that  the  unwritten  law 
has  ever  laid  the  foundation  of  statute  law  in  all   countries. 

Our  laws,  like  our  language,  are  gradually  changing.  So 
many  new  words  have  been  engrafted  on  the  English  lan- 
guage, that  an  Englishman  resurrected  from  the  grave,  where 
he  has  slept  for  eight  hundred  years,  would  not  understand 
our  language,  or  live  happily  under  our  laws.  Our  language 
is  progressive,  and  so  are  our  laws.  Social  and  political  cus- 
toms are  the  blossoms  of  the  coming  law.  Societies  are  set- 
ting aside  customs  which  are  still  legal,  but  with  the  increase 
of  numbers  in  society,  those  customs  will  be  set  aside . 

The  germ  of  a  law,  like  a  mustard  seed  starts  from  a 
point,  and  our  laws  to-day  are  half  a  century  behind  the 
limes. 

Resurrect  George  Washington  from  the  grave  and  let 
him  witness  the  flight  across  the  continent  upon  the/;  -on  horse; 
let  him  near  the  announcement  of  the  election  in  New  Or- 
leans made  in  Washington  City  in  twenty  minutes  after  it  is 
speken  by  the  judges,  and  he  would  think  he  had  slept  a 
thousand  years ;  let  him  go  to  Mount  Vernon  and  bring  suit 
for  possession. 

Adverse  claims  and  the  iaw  delays, 
Would  sound  to  him  like  former  days. 

1  have  said  that  the  origin  of  the  law  is  the  customs  of 
the  people,  and  great  statesmen  only  organize  the  will  of  the 
people  they  represent. 

By  this  declaration  it  is  not  my  design  to  tarnish  a  feather 
fco  the  cap  of  any  great  man,  for  it  is  genius  of  the  highest 


PEN    PICTURES.  101 

order  that  can  fathom  the  bosoms  of  the  people,  that  can  feel 
with  the  wronged  and  observe  the  motives  of  the  wrong- 
doer and  apply  the  proper  remedy.  While  the  lamps  of  all 
past  ages  cast  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  present  they  must  re- 
veal wrong  as  well  as  right. 

To  say  that  our  laws  have  approached  perfection,  would 
affirm  the  arrival  of  the  millennium. 

The  struggle  of  a  principle  in  law,  like  the  struggle  of  a 
word  in  a  language,  must  depend  upon  its  own  strength. 

The  liberty  of  a  people  to  make  their  laws  is  bounded  by 
the  line  of  the  state;  the  term  United  States  conveys  the  idea 
that  a  number  of  differentiates  have  united  for  a  certain  pur- 
pose. To  suppose  they  had  united  for  all  purposes  of  gov- 
ernment and  law  would  abolish  the  state  lines  and  leave  but 
one  state. 

One  state  and  a  centralized  government  would  be  the 
inevitable  fate  of  our  country.  The  government  has  of  late 
been  to  some  extent  revolutionized  on  this  subject,  but  there 
are  yet  many  questions  that  lie  along  the  border  line  between 
state  and  federal  authorities  that  have  yet  to  be  discussed  and 
settled 

Any  law,  local  in  its  effects  and  republican  in  its  form, 
and  not  in  conflict  with  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States, 
is  a  part  and  parcel  of  the  liberties  of  the  state. 

You  may  rob  me  of  my  goods;  you  may  rob  me  of  my 
party  name;  but  oh!  God,  save  me  from  the  dark  dema- 
gogue who  would  unjustly  rob  me  of  my  liberty. 

The  future  greatness  of  our  country  depends  upon  the 
ability  with  which  we  defend  the  rights  transmitted  to  us  by 
our  fathers. 

When  the  waves  of  empire  shall  beat  upon  the  rock  of 
state  rights,  may  some  gallant  son  of  a  noble  sire  arise  and 
proclaim  thus  far  you  may  go  but  no  farther. 

In  the   states,  like  the  provinces  of  the  Great  Empire 


102  PEN  PICTURES. 

let  us  live  under  our  own  laws  while  we  pay  tribute  to  Rome. 

The  freedom  of  the  Union  depends  upon  the  freedom  of 
the  states ;  like  the  character  of  a  family  depends  upon  the 
character  of  its  individual  members. 

The  future  of  our  country  is  astounding.  Revolving 
time  will  give  us  two  hundred  millions  of  people.  The 
great  problem  of  self-government  has  yet  to  be  put  to  the 
test.  With  the  accumulation  of  strength  we  accumulate  the 
difficulties  of  the  problem  of  government.  Education,  virtue 
and  manhood  must  be  increased  with  increasing  power. 
Mental  improvement  can  and  ought  to  be  offered  to  all  class- 
es of  our  people.  Honest  political  economy  in  place  of 
political  deception  should  be  ever  held  up  to  the  view  of  the 
rising  generation. 

With  a  soil  unsurpassed  on  the  globe ;  throughout  a  broad 
and  beautiful  land ;  with  a  genius  unparalleled  in  the  history 
of  nations ;  with  a  people  brave,  active  and  generous  the  fu- 
ture can  only  grow  dark  under  the  mantle  of  an  unwise  gov- 
ernment. The  public  mind,  like  the  mind  of  an  individual, 
is  subject  to  violent  commotions,  but  in  the  moments  of  calm 
reflection  it  is  more  apt  to  appeal  to  reason  and  establish  law 
and  justice.  The  Romans  divided  the  law  into  what  they 
called  public  and  private  law ;  the  latter  applied  to  individu- 
als, the  former  to  the  state.  The  law  between  man  and  man 
or  what  is  properly  individual,  is  more  lasting  and  permanent 
and  is  seldom  overthrown  by  revolutions  in  the  government. 

William,  the  conqueror,  overran  and  revolutionized  the 
government  of  England,  but  the  Saxon  inhabitants  clung  to 
their  birth-right  memories  and  the  laws  of  Alfred  the  Great, 
and  although  an  effort  was  made  to  change  the  language  as 
well  as  the  laws,  it  could  not  be  effected,  and  while  the 
blending  of  the  Norman  and  Saxon  tongues  gave  up  the  Eng- 
lish language,  fair-minded  men  to-day  love  the  plain  Saxon 
words. 


PEN    PICTURES.  103 

Public  law,  or  the  administration  of  the  government,  is 
the  great  end  and  aim  of  all  revolutions,  and  no  revolution 
of  a  government  in  any  age  or  country  was  ever  accomplished 
without  a  political  parly.  Revolutions  are  necessary  ;  they 
must  and  will  come  in  the  order  of  progress;  they  mark,  and 
will  continue  to  mark,  the  onward  march  of  our  civilization. 

But  when  I  speak  of  the  baneful  influences  of  political 
parties,  my  tongue  grows  silently  short.  It  would  take  a 
master  of  the  fine  arts,  and  require  the  genius  of  all  the 
leading  languages  to  guide  the  pen  of  an  author,  or  the  elo- 
quence of  an  orator  to  draw  even  a  faint  outline  of  the  unpar- 
alleled history  of  party  crime. 

No  government  can  exist  without  a  party,  and  while  I 
recognize  party  and  principle  as  the  two  great  elements  in 
political  economy,  I  hope,  and  honestly  trust,  never  to  for- 
sake principle  for  the  sake  of  party. 

Since  the  days  of  Grecian  fables  great  ideas  have  been 
communicated  by  homely  illustrations.  The  fable  of  the 
"Fawn  and  Leopard"  may  not  be  out  of  place  here. 

Near  by  the  handsome  hills  of  a  western  State,  with 
towering  tree-tops  and  foliage  green,  in  wild  seclusion  from 
the  haunts  of  men  there  lived  a  seal  fat  fawn.  By  morning's 
dream  aroused  from  sleep  and  hungry  for  the  new-grown 
grass,  with  nimble  foot  and  fairy  tread  started  out  to  nip  the 
buds  and  breathe  the  morning  air.  Behind  she  left  her  doating 
dam.  and  wandered  far  away  across  the  pleasing  plain  spread 
with  carpet  green  and  fringed  with  wild  and  wasting  bloom. 
She  brushed  the  dew  from  the  growing  grass  and  nipped  the 
tender  buds.  Amid  the  stillness  of  the  scene  no  sound  was 
heard  and  she  saw  no  fraid. 

Hard  by  the  hazel  brush  a  leopard  sat,  with  eager  eyes 
and  ivory  teeth,  half  concealed,  with  hunger  in  his  breast 
and  murder  in  his  eye  ;  still  as  inaudible  time  to  watch  the 
coming  fawn. 


104  PEN    PICTURES. 

The  scent  of  blood  on  the  morning  air  rushed  through 
his  head  and  formed  his  feet  to  spring,  his  leap  fell  short, 
and  then  the  frightened  fawn  flew  with  her  life  across  the 
open  field. 

At  first  she  ran  too  fast  for  him,  'twas  down  a  long 
descent ;  but  rising  up  the  sloping  hill,  her  wind  grew  short 
and  faint,  for  want  of  breath,  her  speed  lost  half  its  force. 

With  iron  heel  and  eager  eyes  the  bloody  beast  approach- 
ed. Thus,  far  away  from  hope  or  help,  the  fleet-footed 
fawn  found  her  fate. 

The  fawn  fitly  represents  principle,  pure  as  the  dew 
from  heaven;  whiie  the  leopard  represents  party  always  fond 
of  blood. 

As  we  enjoy  our  individual  freedom  by  the  union  of 
liberty  and  law,  we  also  enjoy  our  public  freedom  by  the 
union  of  principle  and  party. 

No  government  can  exist  without  a  party,  but  it  must 
be  properly  blended  with  principle.  Politicians  say  we  must 
stand  by  our  party,  and  they  should  add,  we  must  also  stand 
by  our  principles. 

The  United  States  government  will  eventually  stereotype 
the  ancient  government  of  Imperial  or  Papal  Rome.  Im- 
perial Rome,  or  the  government  of  Rome  under  the  Emper- 
ors, when  they  conquered  a  neighboring  nation,  perm.tted 
them  to  live  according  to  their  own  customs,  and  to  be  judged 
by  their  own  laws;  while  they  were  required  to  pay  tribute 
to  Rome  for  protection,  and  the  Roman  legions  were  ever 
ready  to  defend  the  provinces  of  the  Empire. 

Assembled  under  the  banner  of  the  Royal  Purple,  the 
Roman  eagle  was  the  mistress  of  the  world. 

Papal  Rome,  or  the  government  of  Rome  under  the 
Popes,  reversed  the  rule  when  a  province  or  State  entered 
upon  the  warpath.  Rome  was  for  sale.  The  State  willing 
to  surrender  most  of  her  local  liberties  could  purchase  Rome. 


PEN    PICTURES.  xu" 


The  fountain  of  power  to  increase  the  strength  of  party  and 
subdue  principle.       Pot-house  politicians  are  the  men  who 
would  imitate  Papal  Rome,  men  who  work  for  their  party 
regardless  of  principle,  men  who  seek  the  government  money 
without  rendering  some  service  to  the  government,  act  upon 
the  same  theory  of  the  gambler  and  the  rogue,  and  ought  to 
be  classed  with  pot-house  politicians.     In  this  connection  I 
remember  the  words  of  John  C.  Calhoun,  the  great  political 
scholar  of  his  day.     Speaking  of  party,  he  said  :     " It  is  held 
together   by  the   cohesive  power   of   the    public   plunder." 
\nd  the  words  of  the  more  witty  John  Randolph,  of  Ro- 
anoke, upon  the  same  subject:     -  It  has   seven   principles, 
five  loaves  and  two  fishes." 

In  conclusion  I  speak  to  young  men  who  have  yet  to 
come  upon  the  stage  of  statesmanship ;  who  have  yet  to 
learn  the  great  principles  of  liberty  and  law ;  who  have  yet 
to  stand  in  the  council-house  of  this  great  nation  ;  who  have 
yet  to  defend  the  liberties  of  a  great  people ;  who  have  yet 
to  mold  the  destiny  of  a  great  government.  May  you  prove 
worthy  of  the  task. 


LECTURE  II— TIME  AND  MOTION. 

The  back  woodsman  enters  the  forest  with  his  ax  upon 
his  shoulder,  gives  the  first  impression  made  with  human 
foot  to  the  virgin  soil ;  builds  a  log  cabin ;  discovers  the 
course  that  the  waters  run  ;  gives  fright  to  the  wolf  and  the 
wild-cat,  and  proclaims  the  dominion  of  man.  He  then 
sinks  into  his  grave,  with  no  greater  honor  inscribed  upon 
his  banner  than  that  of  the  brave  pioneer. 

Those  who  come  after  him  erect  the  church  and  the 
school-house ;  open  the  roads ;  cultivate  the  ground  ;  build 
towns  and  cities,  and  throw  their  banner  to  the  breeze  in- 
scribed with  ''The  Land  of  the  Free  and  Home  of  the 
Brave." 

Like  the  back-woodsman,  with  nature's  ax  on  my  should- 
er,, I  venture  upon  untrodden  ground,  on  the  broad  domain 
of  mental  philosophy  ;  here  I  build  my  cabin  ;  here  I  point 
out  the  course  the  waters  of  nature  run ;  alarm  the  wolves 
and  the  wild-cats  of  the  social  circle,  and  open  a  new  field 
in  mental  philosophy  to  those  who  come  after  me.  All  that 
I  ask  or  expect  is  the  honor  due  to  a  brave  pioneer. 

Time,  thou  venerable  Sire  and  mysterious  harvest  hand, 
v/ho  gave  you  that  old  scythe  that  never  needs  the  whetting 
stone,  yet  will  not  cut  the  thread  of  fate,  or  wound  the  gods. 
Is  that  thine  only  tool?  thou  builder  of  towns  and  cities, 
founder  of  governments  and  nations,  and  father  of  the  arts 
and  sciences.  No  mortal  eye  hath  seen  thy  cradle ;  none 
shall  see  thy  grave. 


PEN    PICTURES  107 

Solomon  said:  "There  is  a  time  to  be  merry  and  a 
time  to  be  sad;  a  time  to  weep  and  a  time  to  be  glad." 
Another  wise  man  said:  "Time  makes  all  things  even;" 
but  no  philosopher  has  ever  told  us  what  ti?ne  is.  What  is 
time?  Time  is  not  a  thing.  This  book  is  a  thing;  but  time 
is  not  a  thing,  or,  in  other  words,  time  is  not  a  cause.  Time 
is  effect,  or,  rather,  the  result  of  motion.  We  assume  the 
position  that  time  is  not  eternity,  or  any  part  of  it,  a  propo- 
sition that  is  not  disputed,  so  far  as  I  know,  by  any  one.  We 
have  been  taught  that  time  is  a  part  of  duration.  This  is  a 
mistake.  Duration  is  a  period  of  time  that  belongs  to  the 
past,  and  not  to  the  future.  It  applies  to  past  ages  of  the 
world,  and  cannot  properly  be  applied  to  ages  to  come ;  but 
let  us  establish  the  proposition  that  time  is  the  result  of  mo- 
tion. The  earth  has  two  motions  denominated — the  annual 
and  diurnal.  The  earth  revolves  around  the  sun  in  its  orbit 
once  in  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days,  and  upon  its  axis, 
once  in  twenty-four  hours.  Daylight  and  darkness  were  the 
first  divisions  of  time  known  to  primitive  man.  There  is  as 
much  night  as  there  is  day,  eternally,  on  the  earth ;  but,  to 
any  stationary  point  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  day  and 
night  approaches  with  the  rising  and  setting  of  the  sun,  or, 
in  other  words,  day  and  night  are  the  result  of  the  motion  of 
the  earth  in  its  diurnal  revolutions,  and  for  many  ages  was 
the  only  division  of  time  known  to  antiquity.  The  first 
effort  made  by  man  to  extend  the  division  of  time  was  the 
invention  of  an  instrument  called  the  sun-dial. 

The  first  mention  in  the  Scriptures  of  any  instrument  for 
keeping  time  is  in  the  second  book  of  Kings,  Chap.  20,  verse 
11,  and  alludes  to  the  dial  of  Ahaz,  who  lived  and  reigned  at 
Jerusalem  about  300  years  after  Solomon  completed  the  tem- 
ple, and  about  900  years  after  Joshua  led  the  Israelites  over 
the  river  Jordan,  about  3,400  years  after  Adam,  the  first  man, 
according  to  Jewish  antiquity. 


108  PEN    PICTURES. 

Thus  we  see,  the  human  race  had  approached  the 
middle  of  the  historic  period  before  any  instrument  was 
invented  for  keeping  time,  or  rather  we  should  say,  for 
measuring  motion. 

The  first  mention  in  the  Scriptures  made  of  the  hour  is 
by  the  prophet,  Daniel,  in;  6,  Daniel,  when  a  boy, 
was  carried  off  from  his  native  land  in  the  Babylonian  cap- 
tivity. His  book  was  written  in  Babylon,  and  relates  to 
circumstances  that  occurred  in  that  country.  Hence  we 
infer  that  the  Jews  obtained  much  of  their  knowledge  of  the 
sun-dial,  from  the  Babylonians,  for  we  are  informed  by 
Greek  historians  that  they  were  the  first  who  divided  the 
day  into  twelve  equal  parts. 

The  face  of  the  sun-dial  does  not  differ  materially  from 
the  face  of  the  clock  of  the  present  day.  While  the  hand  of 
the  clock  is  but  an  artificial  shadow  to  point  out  the  time  or 
rather  to  indicate  the  progress  of  the  Earth  in  its  revolution 
upon  its  axis,  the  motion  of  the  clock  must  correspond  pre- 
cisely with  the  motion  of  the  Earth  or  the  clock  will  not 
keep  correct  time. 

Clocks  to  run  with  cog-wheels  were  first  invented  in 
France  in  the  year  996.  Clocks  to  run  with  a  pendulum 
were  not  invented  until  1630;  and  there  is  not  a  dictionary 
or  lexicon  that  has  ever  been  published  in  the  world  that  gives 
a  true  definition  of  the  word  time. 

Stand  with  your  face  toward  the  east  at  twilight  and 
observe  the  heavenly  harnessed  team  of  day  peep  over  the 
eastern  hills  at  you,  then  start  like  a  sky-rocket  through  the 
atmosphere  west,  at  the  rate  of  one  thousand  miles  an  hour, 
and  you  will  see  the  glorious  god  of  day  peeping  over  the 
eastern  hills  at  you  forever. 

Now  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  the  argument,  that  you 
have  a  good  watch  in  your  pocket,  a  true  time-piece,  as  we 
say,  and  that  you  could  elevate  yourself  just  above  the  high- 


PEN    PICTURES.  109 

•est  peak  of  the  mountain  top  and  remain  still — the  sun  is   still 
and  you  are  s'ill—your  watch  is  right  and  the  sun  is  right. 

The  surface  of  the  earth  would  pass  you  at  the  rate  of 
•one  thousand  miles  an  hour.  If  you  were  elevated  at-sunrise 
the  sun  would  be  rising  all  the  time  ;  if  at  noon  it  would  be 
noon  all  the  time  :  if  at  sunset  it  would  be  sunset  all  the  tim- 
— so  far  as  your  observation  would  be  concerned. 

Now  let  us  suppose  that  you  left  a  white  flag  on  the  Earth 
where  you  were  elevated.,  and  that  you  were  elevated  at  6  o'clock, 
when  the  flag  comes  around  again  you  look  at  your  watch 
and  it  indicates  six  o'clock.  The  flag  would  be  your  only 
evidence  that  your  watch  was  right,  and  was  measuring  motion. 
We  call  the  result  of  that  measure  time. 

To  realize  day  and  night  we  must  be  confined  to  a  local 
spot  on  the  surface  of  the  Earth.  The  light  of  day  bursts 
upon  the  people  of  New  York  before  it  arouses  the  sleepers 
of  California,  and  the  shades  of  night  gather  'round  the 
people  of  New  York  before  the  sun  sinks  in  the  Pacific  to 
the  eyes  of  California. 

But  why  should  I  continue  on  this  part  of  the  subject? 
Learned  and  wise  men  everywhere  agree  that  motion  meas- 
ures time,  for  there  is  no  evading  the  atdenee;  it  is  a  propo- 
sition that  proves  itself.  But  they  say  that  motion  does  not 
produce  time.  I  confess  that  motion  does  not  produce  eternity 
.but  contend  that  it  does  produce  time. 

Here  then  is  the  tug  of  war. 

We  find  ourselves  a  lonely  traveler  in  a  strange  land, 
weary,  tired  and  hungry.  Yonder  is  a  cottage,  let  us  apply 
for  food  and  rest.  We  stand  before  the  gate  and  inform  the 
monarch  of  the  premises  that  we  are  tired  and  hungry.  He 
orders  a  sheep  driven  out  of  his  lot,  and  pointing  at  it  with 
his  index  finger  says,  if  you  don't  eat  that  sheep,  head  and 
horns,  you  are  not  hungry. 

More  than  forty  years  ago,  after  having  been  raised  in  a 


110  PEN  PICTURES. 

corn  field,  I  came  upon  the  stage  of  action,  with  a  diploma 
Irom  a  log  school  house  in  the  backwoods  of  Kentucky,  hungry 
and  thirsty  for  information,  and  with  the  elastic  palate  of  a 
hopeful  student  swallowed  everything — head  and  horns. 

To  get  rid  of  the  horns,  I  emancipated  myself  from  the 
tyranny  of  the  schools,  and  appealed  to  the  original  copy — 
which  is  nature. 

Now  it  is  a  self-evident  proposition  that  motion  cannot 
accomplish  anything  without  the  direction  of  intellect. 

Then  motion  does  not  measure  time  but  intellect  measures 
motion,  and  we  call  the  result  of  that  measure  time. 

Measuring  time  reminds  me  of  the  report  made  by  a  man 
who  attempted  to  ?neasure  the  imagination.  He  said:  "It  is 
as  large  as  the  globe  and  smaller  than  a  mustard  seed — it  fills 
the  whole  universe  and  you  can  get  it  in  a  thimble — it  exists 
throughout  all  space  and  has  no  existence — it  will  make  you  as 
rich  as  a  bond-holder — with  it  you  can  fill  all  your  fields  with 
cattle,  and  make  a  two-year  old  colt  in  a  minute." 

Measure  time;  a  moment,  half  a  moment,  here,  fleeting, 
gone  forever.  What  is  time  before  it  is  measured  ?  or  what 
is  time  measured  out  of?  You  can  measure  a  piece  of  cloth 
because  that  is  a  thing;  you  can  measure  a  large  pile  of 
wheat  with  a  small  cup,  but  you  will  measure  the  wheat  all 
up.  So  likewise,  if  time  was  measured  out  of  duration,  dura, 
tion  would  all  be  measured  up;  and  if  out  of  eternity, 
eternity  would  all  be  measured  up.  To  say  time  is  measured 
out  of  time  is  absurd  and  ridiculous  nonsense.  Motion  no 
more  measures  time  than  the  waves  on  the  sea  measure  the 
water ;  the  wave  is  the  result  of  the  wind,  when  the  wind 
lulls  and  becomes  still  the  ocean  becomes  calm — the  wave 
has  sunk.  Time  is  the  result  of  the  motion  of  the  earth; 
when  the  earth  becomes  still  (if  it  ever  does)  the  wave  of  our 
time  will  be  lost  and  sink  in  the  ocean  of  eternity.     Hence  we 


"PEN    PICTURES.  Ill 

see    the  force    that  was  in    the  language  of   the  English  poet 
when  he  said — 

The  bless'd  to-day,  is  as  completely  so, 
As  who  began  a  thousand  years  ago." 

A  year  of  time  is  determined  by  the  motion  of  a  planet 
around  the  sun  in  its  orbit,  consequently  every  planet  has  a 
different  year  of  //me,  and  just  in  proportion  as  they  differ  in 
their  speed  of  motion  and  distance  from  the  sun.     The  exact 
time  of  the  earth's  motion  around  the  sun  in  its  orbit  was  not 
ascertained  for  many  ages.      In  the  morning   of  the  historic 
period,  when  every  man  was  his  own  astronomer,  the  rising 
and   setting  of  the   dog  star,    as  it   was  called,  was   observed 
with  no  ordinary  interest.     The  ancient  Thebans,  who  first 
cultivated  astronomy  in  Egypt,  determined  the  length  of  the 
year  by  the  number  of  its  risings.     The  Egyptians  watched 
it  with  mingled  apprehensions  of  hope  and  fear;  it  foretold 
the  rising  of  the  river  Nile  and  admonished  them  to  sow  their 
fields.     Julius  Caesar  came  very  near  regulating   the  calendar, 
but  the   astronomers  in  his  day,  in  their  observations  of  the 
earth  in  its  orbit,  made  an  error  of  eight  minutes  and  forty- 
eight  seconds,  and  it  was  found  in  1582   that  in  the  run  of 
1648  years  the  true  time  was  ten  days  ahead  of  the  recorded 
time,  and  in  order  to  reach  the  true  time  without  disturbing 
the  records  of  all  Christendom,  the  Pope  of  Rome  issued  a 
proclamation,  or  bull,  calling  the  5th  day  of  October  the  15th. 
And  this  is  the  origin  of  old  and  new  style  of  time.      You 
have  all  heard  of  old  Christmas,  when  the  cows  kneel  at  mid- 
night,  the   chickens  crow,  and   the  dogs    bark.     The  new 
style  of  time  was  not  adopted  in    England  until  1752 — one 
hundred  and  seventy  years  after  the  correction — in  the  reign 
of  George  II. 

The  revolution  of  the  earth  around  the  sun  in  its  orbit 
determines  a  year  of  time  and  always  did,  though  it  required 


112 


PEN    PICTURES 


many  ages  to  ascertain  that  fact.  While  the  earth  passes 
around  the  sun  in  its  orbit  once,  it  revolves  upon  its  axis  366 
times  and  only  produces  365  days.  And  this  brings  us  to 
consider  solar  and  siderial  time  or  solar  and  siderial  motion. 

We  can  best  represent  it  by  the  hands  of  a  clock.  You 
must  remember  that  the  motion  of  the  earth  in  its  orbit  and 
upon  its  axis  are  both  in  the  same  direction.  The  earth  rises 
up  from  the  west,  so  to  speak,  and  turns  to  the  east  in  its 
diurnal  revolutions,  causing  the  approach  of  day  and  night 
to  every  local  spot  upon  its  surface.  The  motion  of  the  earth 
in  its  orbit  is  also  from  west  to  east,  rising  up,  so  to  speak, 
ninety-five  millions  of  miles  above  the  sun,  and  sinking  the 
same  distance  below  the  sun. 

The  orbit  of  the  earth  is  perpendicular,  and  not  horizon- 
tal, as  up  and  down,  appear  to  our  senses.     Now  let  us  call 
the  motion  or  speed  of  the  hour  hand  the  earth's  orbit,  and 
the  motion  of  the  minute  hand  the   earth's   axis.     We  now 
place  both  hands  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  say  that  it  is  noon 
or    the  sun  is  on   the    meridian.     When    the    minute    hand 
passes  round  and  comes  again  to  the  figure  12,  the  earth  has 
accomplished  one  revolution  upon  its  axis;   but  the  earth  has 
also  moved  one  degree  in  the  same  direction,  as  represented 
by  the  hour  hand,  consequently  the  earth  must  move  one 
degree  further  to  overtake  the  hour  hand  and  bring  the  sun 
on  the  meridian  again.     This  distance   is  divided   into  365 
degrees.     One  is  lost  every  day,  consequently  in  366  revolu- 
tions of  the  earth  upon  its  axis  we  realize  only  365  days,  and 
this  is  solar  and  siderial  time,  or  solar  and  siderial  motion. 

There  is  another  illustration  of  this  problem.  Let  three 
men  agree  that  one  shall  start  around  the  earth,  traveling 
east,  and  that  one  shall  make  the  same  journey,  traveling 
west,  and  the  third  shall  remain  at  the  place  of  starting.  Each 
man  shall  keep  a  correct  tally  of  every  day  that  transpires  in 
a  year,  by  cutting  a  notch  on  a  stick.     At  the    end  of  the 


PEN    PICTURES.  H3 

year  the  two  travelers  return,  having  traversed  the  globe,  and 
compare  notes.  The  one  who  remained  stationary  will  have 
365  notches ;  the  one  who  traveled  east  will  have  364  notches; 
the  one  who  traveled  west  will  have  366  notches.  Now, 
if  these  men  were  measuring  or  keeping  time,  they  would 
agree.  The  fact  is,  they  have  measured  motion  and  have  not 
measured  time.  One  traveled  with  the  motion  of  the  earth, 
and  maintained  solar  time ;  the  other  traveied  against  the 
motion  of  the  earth,  and  gained  one  day. 

A  month  or  a  week  is  an  artificial  division  of  time, 
adopted  for  convenience.  Seven  days  have  been  called  a 
week  from  the  remotest  antiquity  of  the  Jews.  Prior  to  the 
reign  of  Numa  Pompilius,  the  second  King  of  Rome,  the  year 
was  divided  into  ten  months,  or  thirteen  moons. 

The  motion  of  the  earth  produces  the  time  of  the  earth, 
or  what  we  recognize  as  our  time  ;  for  every  planet  has  its 
own  motion,- and  consequently  its  own  time. 

When  the  earth  ceases  to  move  (if  it  ever  does),  our 
time  will  also  cease;  but  the  time  on  the  other  planets  will 
not  cease,  if  they  continue  in  their  motion.  We  can  compare. 
their  motions  with  the  motions  of  the  eaith,  and  note  the 
difference  in  their  time  and  our  time. 

If  the  earth  was  bursted  to  make  moons  for  some  other 
planet,  we  have  no  evidence  that  the  motion  of  the  other 
planets  would  be  changed  or  altered,  and  as  long  as  they 
maintain  their  motion  they  will  maintain  their  time. 

The  planet  Venus  revolves  upon  her  axis  once  in  23 
hours,  21  minutes,  and  7  seconds,  consequently  her  day  is 
about  twenty-five  minutes  shorter  than  ours.  She  passes 
around  the  sun  in  her  orbit  in  seven  and  a  half  months  of  our 
time.  While  the  earth  measures  two  years,  Venus  deals  out 
three  years  and  forty-five  days  to  her  inhabitants. 

The  planet  Mars  is  the  bright  star  that  we  saw  in  the 
east  in  September  and  October,  a  little   after   sunset.     He 

8 


114  PEN    PICTURES. 

revolves  upon  his  axis  in  24  hours,  37  minutes,  and  23  sec- 
onds, consequently  his  day  is  about  forty-two  minutes  longer 
than  ours.  He  passes  around  the  sun  in  his  orbit  in  twenty- 
two  and  a  half  months  of  our  time,  consequently  it  takes 
nearly  two  of  our  years  to  make  one  for  the  planet  Mars. 

Those  two  planets  are  next  to  the  earth — Venus  on  the 
inside  and  Mars  on  the  outside  track. 

But  let  us  go  'way  yonder  near  the  edge  of  the  solar  sys- 
tem, and  observe  the  planet  Jupiter  He  revolves  upon  his 
axis  in  9  hours,  55  minutes,  and  50  seconds,  consequently  he 
crowds  two  of  his  days  into  one  of  ours,  and  has  about  four 
hours  left.  He  stands  boldly  out  from  the  sun  a  distance  of 
495  millions  of  miles — 400  millions  of  miles  further  from  the 
sun  than  the  earth  is — and  he  moves  around  the  sun  in  his 
orbit  in  a  little  less  than  twelve  of  our  years,  consequently 
while  a  boy  of  his  inhabitance  is  arriving  at  twelve  years  of 
age,  one  of  our  boys  would  become  a  venerable  sire  of  one 
hundred  and  forty-four  years. 

Now  let  us  visit  all  of  the  planets  we  have  named,  and 
take  the  watch  with  us.  When  we  arrive  on  the  velvet  shores 
of  Venus  we  will  move  the  regulator  of  the  watch — the  spring 
that  regulates  the  motion  of  the  watch — so  it  will  run  twenty- 
five  minutes  fast  in  a  day,  and  when  we  meet  the  Monarch  of 
that  planet  we  can  tell  him  the  time  of  day — because  our 
watch  is  brought    precisely  to  the  motion  of  his  planet,  or 

world. 

"When  we  arrive  on  the  bloody  shores  of  the  planet  Mars 
we  will  deaden  the  main  spring  of  the  watch,  so  it  will  run 
forty-two  minutes  slow  in  a  day,  and  we  will  have  the  time 
or  measure  of  the  motion  of  that  planet. 

But  when  we  arrive  on  the  distant  shores  of  Jupiter 
what  can  we  do  with  the  watch  ?  We  will  have  to  double 
the  power  of  the  main  spring  of  our  watch  to  keep  the  time 
or  measure  the  motion  of  that  planet — because  he  revolves  on 


PEN   PICTURES.  115 

his  axis  twice  while  the  earth  revolves  once,  and  has  about  four 

hours  left. 

Does  not  fhese  illustrations  make  it  clear  that  clocks  and 

watches  measure  motion  ? 

What,  then,  is  time  ?   The  result  of  motion;  or,  in  other 
words,  motion  produces  time,  but  does  not  produce  eternity. 

What  then  is  duration  ?  As  I  said  before,  duration  is  a 
period  of  time  that  belongs  to  the  past.  Mark  what  I  say— 
for  all  of  the  wise  men  of  the  past,  from  Numa  Pompilius  to 
the  Pope  of  Rome — all  learned  authorities,  both  sacred  and 
profane — have  said  that  time  is  a  part  of  duration.  They  put 
the  cart  before  the  horse — duration  is  a  part  of  time,  and 
belongs  to  the  past.  It  is  a  law  of  nature  that  effect  cannot 
precede  cause ;  no  man  can  build  a  house  before  he  prepares 
the  materials.  Duration  is  the  sum  of  motion,  and  cannot 
exist  before  that  motion  is  performed.  Rome  was  founded 
750  years  before  the  Christian  era;  that  is,  the  earth  accom- 
plished 750  revolutions  around  the  sun  in  its  orbit  from  the 
founding  of  Rome  until  the  inauguration  of  Christianity.  That 
750  years  is  a  period  of  time,  or  a  part  of  time,  that  we  call 
duration,  and  belongs  to  the  past.  1100  years  transpired — 
that  is,  the  earth  made  11 00  revolutions  around  the  sun  in  its 
orbit  from  the  time  Solomon  built  the  temple  at  Jerusalem 
until  the  birth  of  Christ.  And,  according  to  the  most  ap- 
proved system  of  archaeology,  5440  years  transpired — that  is, 
the  earth  made  5440  revolutions  around  the  sun,  from  the 
creation  by  Moses  until  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus  preached 
His  Gospel  on  the  mount  in  Palestine 

All  of  those  are  periods  of  duration  recorded  on  the  page 
of  history.  But  if  you  wish  a  more  extended  idea  of  dura- 
tion, go  back  with  me  behind  the  historic  period — go  back  a 
hundred  thousand  years — go  back  a  hundred  thousand  cen- 
turies— go  back  a  hundred  million  of  centuries— go  back  un- 
til the  mind  turns  upon  itself,  and  there  is  an  idea  not  yet 


116  PEN    PICTURES. 

expressed — eternity.  Turn  the  imagination  loose,  and  go  for- 
ward, but  remember,  duration  does  not  express  the  idea,  an- 
ticipation is  before,  duration  is  behind — time  has  disappeared. 

Observe  the  intellect,  solitary  and  alone,  in  the  broad 
field  of  space.  Space,  Dy  affinity,  is  eternity — an  open  field 
without  end — a  fit  home,  for  eternity  can  not  dwell  in  a 
local  spot.  Time  and  motion  belong  to  the  planets.  The 
planets  belong  to  space.  The  forecast  of  intellect,  may  re- 
alize eternity — and  here  we  pause,  on  the  distant  border  of 
human  thought,  for  we  come  not  here  again  until  the  close  of 
our  last  lecture.  Getting  down  upon  the  ground-work  of 
nature  and  her  laws,  I  come  to  speak  of  Motion. 

Motion,  is  a  principle.  I  hold  my  hand  here,  and  move 
it  there.  My  hand  is  a  thing,  but  the  change  of  its  position 
is  a  principle — motion — and  it  is  the  first  principle  of  nature. 
The  whole  universe  is  in  motion.  The  sun  is  still  to  his 
planets,  but  the  sun,  together  with  his  planets,  are  moving 
through  the  broad  field  of  space  around  an  unknown  center. 
The  flowers  ot  the  field,  the  majestic  oak,  the  vegetable,  and 
all  of  the  animal  kingdom,  could  not  be  developed  without 
the  principle  of  motion.  Our  broad  and  beautiful  fields  that 
wave  with  golden  heads  on  the  days  of  harvest — our  towns, 
villages  and  cities,  and  the  iron  horse  that  consolidates  them 
into  one^city — together  with  all  the  works  of  nature  and  of 
art.  The  broad  and  placid  river,  that  bears  the  products  of 
our  labor  on  its  bosom,  as  it  rolls  on  in  its  majesty  to  the 
ocean,  and  the  river  itself,  is  the  result  of  the  principle  of 
motion. 

Water^  in  small  and  minute  particles,  traverses  the  at- 
mosphere, condensing,  it  falls  to  the  ground  in  drops  of  rain, 
and  fills  up  the  rivulets,  that  wind  their  wandering  way  across 
the  valleys,  and  fill  up  the  rivers,  and  the  rivers  traversing 
a  continent,  return  to  the  ocean.  Not  only  on  this  conti- 
nent, but  aiso  the  continents  of  Europe,  Africa  and  Asia — 


PEN    PICTURES. 


117 


not  only  on  the  continents  of  earth,  but  on  all  the  planets 
that  belong  to  the  solar  system,  and  all  of  these  streams  of 
water  are  produced  by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  but  the  heat  of 
sun  does  not  produce  the  water  So,  likewise,  the  fleeting 
moments  of  time,  fill  up  the  minutes,  the  minutes  fill  up  the 
hours,  the  hours  fill  up  the  days,  the  days  fill  up  the  years, 
the  years  fill  up  the  centuries,  and  the  centuries  roil  on  in 
their  majesty,  to  the  ages,  not  only  upon  earth,  but  on  all 
the  planets  that  belong  to  the  solar  system.  And  all  of  these 
streams  of  time  are  produced  by  motion.  But  motion  does 
not  produce  the  universe.  By  the  term  universe,  we  do  not 
allude  alone  to  the  solar  system,  but  to  the  broad  expanse  of 
the  unfolded  heavens.  The  ancients  had  a  very  obscure 
idea  of  the  heavens.  The  telescope  was  invented  in  1588, 
and  improved  by  Galileo,  who  was  compelled  by  a  supersti- 
tious court,  on  the  28th  day  of  June,  1633,  at  the  peril  of 
his  life,  to  deny  with  his  lips  the  great  facts  that  science  and 
nature  had  unfolded  to  his  truthful  heart. 

Go  with  me  to  the  telescope,  on  a  clear  night,  when  the 
pulse  of  all  pre-conceived  ideas  is  still;  observe  the  one  hun- 
dred million  of  fixed  stars— they  are  called  fixed  because  they 
are  so  remote  from  the  earth,  that  the  orbit  of  the  earth,  one 
hundred  and  ninety  millions  of  miles,  produces  no  percepti- 
ble change  in  their  locality.  They  are  supposed  to  be  suns 
as  large  as  ours,  with  planets  revolving  'round  them.  And 
on  those  planets  are  rivers  as  long  as  the  Missouri,  and  broad 
as  the  Amazon,  and  mountains  and  valleys,  filled  with  life 
and  motion.  Go  on  in  the  imagination  beyond  the  utmost 
limits  of  telescopic  vision,  and  wje  are  lost  in  wonder.  Every 
spark  of  light  is  a  world.  God  is  everywhere.  When 
this  glorious  revelation  is  unfolded  to  our  view,  we  are  less 
concerned  with  the  philosophy  of  creation,  than  we  are  in 
asking  ourselves  the  question  :  Will  man  sieep  in  the  grave 
for  ever?     This  question  will  be  more  fully  answered  at  the 


118  PEN    PICTURES. 

close  of  our  lectures,  but  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  impa- 
tient, we  answer,  no.  It  is  contrary  to  all  nature,  and  to 
everything  that  we  see  made  manifest  around  us,  to  suppose 
that  the  mind  perishes  like  the  body.  Nature  is  always  true 
to  herself.  An  organ  of  the  human  brain,  has  painted  a 
great  castle,  in  which  there  is  every  delight  to  entertain, 
amuse  and  instruct  the  intellect,  where  there  is  no  pain,  no 
sorrow  and  no  weeping ;  where  the  aisles  and  the  walks  stretch 
a-w-a-y  y-o-nd-e-r  beyond  the  remotest  conception  of  the 
human  brain;  where  pleasure  flows  in  upon  the  travelers 
from  innumerable  avenues  on  every  foot  of  the  way ;  where 
departed  friends  who  have  been  made  dear  to  the  heart  by 
the  warmest  ties  of  affection,  are  met  again.  But  the  castle 
is  elevated,  and  we  have  no  ladder  to  reach  it.  Oh !  wretched 
man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  this  dead  body? 

We  shall,  in  the  course  of  these  lectures,  endeavor  to 
unfold  the  beautiful  principles  of  nature.  But  for  the  pres- 
ent we  must  return  to  the  philosophy  of  motion.  We  have 
spoken  of  the  motion  of  the  universe,  we  must  now  speak  of 
motion  with  regard  to  man.  The  field  is  broad  and  full  of 
beautiful  illustrations.  We  only  call  your  attention  to  one. 
It  is  one  that  reflects  many  others.  I  take  hold  of  anything 
with  my  right  hand  and  throw  it  'round  with  more  ease  than 
I  do  with  my  left  hand,  and  why?  Because  the  principle  of 
motion  has  been  more  thoroughly  applied  to  my  right,  than 
it  has  to  my  left  hand.  And  this  principle  holds  good 
throughout  all  nature. 

Take  two  little  boys,  of  equal  endowment  and  physical 
strength.  (Your  arms  are  equal  in  infancy.)  Educate  one 
of  them,  as  you  educate  the  right  hand,  and  educate  the 
other,  as  you  educate  the  left  hand.  When  they  arrive  to 
manhood  there  will  be  the  same  difference  between  them, 
that  there  is  between  the  right  and  the  left  hand,  and  fiom 


PEN    PICTURES  119 

the  same  cause,  and  this  principle  holds  good  mentally  as  weli 
as  physically. 

The  first  and  great  principle  of  nature,  is  motion,  action, 
industry.  There  is  no  greatness  attainable  in  any  calling 
without  it,  either  physically  or  mentally.  Great  men  in  all 
ages,  and  among  all  nations,  have  worked  their  way  up  from 
the  bottom.  Like  a  seed  cast  upon  the  earth,  to  rise  up  and 
unfold  the  branches,  the  blossoms,  and  the  fruit,  whose  ten- 
der  buds  are  first  directed  by  the  delicate  hand  of  a  faithful 
mother. 

Henry  Clay,  the  great  American  statesman,  was  once  a 
mill  boy,  and  rode  an  old  blind  horse  through  the  swamps  of 
his  native  State,  on  a  bag  of  meal.  The  gentle  breeze  that 
rustled  through  the  infant  locks,  clustering  beneath  a  home- 
made cap,  may  have  whispered  in  a  still  small  voice  the  liv- 
ing principle  of  motion.  Without  fame  and  without  fortune, 
but  with  industry  and  integrity,  he  winged  a  golden  way  from 
the  swamps  of  his  native  State,  to  the  mountain-top  of  fame 
in  the  United  States. 

If  there  be  in  this  assembly,  any  little  boy  upon  whom 
fortune  has  frowned,  I  mean  as  to  money;  to  him  I  say,  go  to 
work  mentally,  preserve  the  body  and  the  brain  from  all  de- 
moralizing influences,  ponder  over  the  experience  of  past 
ages  by  the  midnight  lamp,  and  as  certain  as  the  sun  rises  in 
the  future  you  will  meet  your  reward. 

If  you  have  no  mother,  and  those  to  whom  you  are 
amenable  are  neglecting  your  character,  go  to  work,  and 
build  up  your  own  character,  lay  the  foundation  stones  deep 
in  the  ground,  run  the  walls  up  plumb  and  true,  let  every  part 
of  the  edifice  meet  the  eye  of  the  beholder  in  harmony,  and 
you  will  become  a  great  man. 

Julius  Caesar  has  been  dead  1922  years,  imperishable 
fame  is  stamped  on  his  name,  with  no  counseler  but  ambition, 
and  no  friend  but  his  sword,  he  crossed  the  Rubicon  and  laid 


120  PEN    PICTURES. 

the  foundation  of  the  Roman  Empire  If  you  have  no  de- 
sire to  become  Caesar,  and  wish  to  make  a  dog  of  yourself, 
go  sleep  in  the  barn,  lay  'round  the  premises,  and  scratch 
fleas,  feed  on  the  crumbs  thrown  out  at  the  door,  and  the  first 
thing  you  know,  you  will  begin  to  bark. 

One  more  word  to  doubtful  men,  and  I  conclude.  If 
there  be  in  this  assembly  any  one  who  feels  aggrieved  at  this 
discourse,  because  it  contains  more  philosophy  than  it  does 
religion,  to  them  I  say,  the  bones  of  my  ancestors  for  six 
generations,  sleep  beneath  the  green  sod  in  the  church-yards 
of  my  native  land.  They  filled  their  cups  from  the  measure 
of  faith  offered  up  in  their  day.  It  would  not  become  a  brave 
manhood,  to  throw  a  spot  of  tarnish  on  their  memory,  or 
leave  their  tombs  for  the  home  of  the  bat  and  the  owl.  ror 
all  that  I  am,  and  all  that  1  hope  to  be,  in  this  life,  or  in  the 
life  to  come,  is  justly  due  to  early  impressions,  made  upon  a 
youthful  brain  by  a  christian  mother. 


LECTURE  III.— MIND  AND  ORGANISM. 

Nothing   that   is  not  solid,  true  and  refined— dare  ask    public 
audience  of  mankind. 

Mental  philosophy  has  engaged  the  attention  of  the  wise 
men  of  the  world,  in  all  ages,  and  among  all  nations.  Zoroas- 
ter among  the  Persians,  Plato  among  the  Greeks,  and  St. 
Paul  among  the  jews,  left  impressions  behind  them  on  the 
subject  of  merited  philosophy,  that  will  last  as  long  as  the  brain 
will  think,  or  stamp  a  thought  in  marble  transmitted  to  poster- 
ity. When  we  look  back  upon  primitive  man,  we  see  him 
destitute  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  rude,  and  barbarous  to  his 
own  species.  And  when  we  observe  the  centuries  rolling  on, 
turning  up  at  each  revolution  some  new  discovery  and  unfold- 
ing principles  that  contribute  to  the  comfort  of  man,  physi- 
cally and  mentally,  the  question  naturally  presents  itself  to  us, 
Why  do  men  become  wiser  ?  What  is  it,  that  illuminates  the 
path-way  of  every  art  and  of  every  science  ?  What  is  the 
motive  power  impelling  the  onward  march  of  our  civilization  ? 
Who  has  ever  unfolded  the  dominion  of  mind  over  matter? 

That  mind  or  intellect  is  in  the  universe,  no  one  will  dis- 
pute. But  how  produced,  and  how  sustained,  is  the  question. 
We  proceed  upon  the  theory,  that  the  brain  is  the  &eat,  of 
head-quarters  of  the  mind.  Does  the  mind  originate  in  the 
brain,  or  is  it  external  ? 

I  shall  offer  you  some  startling  evidences  that  mind  is  ex- 
ternal,   a  principle  or  element  prevading  the  universe,  and 


122  PEN    PICTURES. 

this  is  a  new  departure  from  the  great  cardinal  principles  laid 
down  by  the  old  philosophers. 

We  live  in  a  progressive  age,  while  every  art  and  every 
science  has  advanced  with  wonderful  rapidity,  mental  philos- 
ophy has  been  left  to  slumber  in  the  tomb  of  the  dark  ages. 
But  let  us  proceed  with  the  evidence,  sustaining  the  prop 
osition,  that  mind  is  external. 

The  variegated  colors  of  the  rainbow,  the  view  of  the  hea- 
vens and  of  the  earth,  together  with  all  the  visible  beauties  of 
nature,  are  introduced  to  the  brain  by  external  means,  for  the 
eye  is  but  the  window  of  the  brain  ;  and  as  the  rays  of  the 
light  of  the  sun,  reveal  and  display  all  of  the  visible  beauties 
of  the  universe,  so  also,  the  rays  of  the  great  star  of  intellect, 
reveal  and  display  all  of  the  beauties  of  wisdom. 

When  we  are  in  a  dark  room,  we  see  dimly ;  when  we 
come  out  to  the  light,  we  see  plainly.  .     In  our  native  igno. 
ranee,  we  are  mentally  blind,  whether  it  be  the  childhood  of 
a  nation,  or  an  individual ;    when  we  are  brought  out  to  the 
lio-ht  of  experience  by  the  institutions  of  our  predecessors,  we 
sec  plainly  many  things  that  we  did  not  see  in  our  native  ig- 
norance.    If  you   say  that  equal  instruction  should  equally 
enlighten  all  men,  I  answer,  it  would,  if  all  men  were  en- 
dowed with  the  same  mental  glass,  but  this  is  not  the  case, 
for  while  some  are  endowed  with  a  mental  glass  thin  and 
transparent,  others  are  thick,  cast  in  the  dark,   so  dead  and 
opaque  in  themselves,  that  the  concentrated  rays  of  the  great 
star  of  intellect  would  not  penetrate  them  in  forty  years.>Ttie 
eyes,  the  ears,  the  nose,  the  tongue  and  the  nerves  of. the 
body,   are  all  external  and  visible  organs  of  the  brain,'1  by' 
which  information  is  received. 

No  man  can  see  with  his  ears  or  hear  with  his  eyes,  can" 
love  whom  he  hates  or  hate  whom  he  loves,  and  when  he  is 
mentally  deaf  to  the  notes  of  music,  it  is  no  evidence  that 
he  is  mentally  deaf  to  the  voice  of  love ;  and  every  organ  of 


PEN    PICTURES. 


123 


ti  i  !>rain  performs  its  office  precisely  in  proportion  to  its 
capacity.  A  man  with  good  eyes  sees  well,  with  geod  ears 
hears  well,  and  this  brings  us  to  consider  upon  the  internal 
and  invisible  organs  of  the  brain. 

The  organ  of  music  is  more  plainly  and  better  developed 
in  somje  races  of  men  than  it  is  in  others,  and  in  some  indi- 
viduals of  the  same  race  than  in  others.  The  organs  of  self- 
esteem,  combativeness,  hope,  the  love  of  home,  and  many 
others,  are  more  fully  developed  in  some  individuals  than  in 
others.  All  men  do  not  see  alike,  pride  alike,  love  alike,  or 
stay  at  home  alike.  In  accordance  with  the  organism  of  the 
brain  do  they  act.  We  conclude,  therefore,  that  the  brain 
is  a  set  of  organs  animated  by  a  principle  or  element  pervad- 
ing the  universe. 

Let  us  make  an  effort  to  identify  the  internal  with  the 
external  organs  of  the  brain.  We  will  de  so  by  asking  a  sup- 
posed individual  a  few  plain  questions.  Why  did  you  not 
see  the  procession  that  came  to  town  this  morning  ?  Because 
my  eyes  have  been  put  out.  Why  did  you  not  hear  the  roll- 
ing of  the  wheels  and  the  tramp  of  the  horses  ?  Because  my 
ears  have  failed;  I  am  deaf.  Why  did  you  not  smell  that 
remarkable  odor  that  accompanied  the  train  ?  Because  my 
nose  is  stopped  up;  I  have  a  dreadful  cold. 

Let  us  restore  the  external  mental  organs  and  continue 
the  questions.  Why  did  you  not  imitate  the  beautiful  music 
that  was  in  the  procession?  Because  I  cannot  sing;  I  have 
no  ear  for  music.  Why  did  you  not  draw  a  pencil  picture  of 
the  train?  Because  I  have  no  mechanism,  no  talent  for 
drawing.  Why  did  you  not  stand  erect  and  show  yourself 
to  the  best  advantage  while  the  train  was  passing  ?  Because 
I  have  no  self-esteem.  But,  an  objector  says,  that  is  phre- 
nology, and  no  proof  that  mind  is  external.  I  answer — It 
identifies  mental  organism. 

We  will  now  proceed  with  another  class  of  evidences 


124  PEN   PICTURES. 

that  makes  it  clear  that  mind  is  a  living  principle  pervading 
the  universe.  Observe  that  industrious  mechanic.  He  is  up 
early  and  bright  in  the  morning,  full  of  hope  and  action,  de- 
termined to  earn  an  honest  living  for  himself  and  family. 
His  eyes  behold  all  the  beauties  of  nature,  his  ears  note  every 
sound  of  his  hammer,  his  genius  or  mechanism  trace  every 
line  of  his  pencil.  His  days  work  is  over;  he  faithfully 
returns  to  his  domicile ;  the  last  scene  of  the  day  closes  upon 
our  observation.  His  garments  arc  laid  aside;  stretched 
upon  his  couch  he  closes  his  eyes,  shutting  out  the  light  of 
the  world;  the  busy  bustle  of  the  day  is  over  and  the  pulse 
of  the  town  is  still,  all  the  nerves  of  his  body  have  ceased 
to  vibrate ;  the  organs  of  his  brain  are  all  closed ;  he  is  held 
in  the  sweet  embrace  of  nature's  soft  nurse ;  the  man  is  asleep; 
his  mind  is  gone ;  intellect  does  not  sleep ;  it  is  organism ; 
every  organ  in  the  brain  closes  up  like  the  eye,  and  this  is  the 
lethargy  we  call  sleep — death's  half  brother. 

When  there  is  no  concert  of  action  or  harmony  with  the 
brain  organs  in  closing  up,  when  they  are  all  closed,  except 
the  organs  of  memory  and  fancy  or  imagination,  we  realize 
what  we  call  restless  sleep,  disturbed  sleep,  the  sleep  of 
mesmerism,  somnambulism,  and  all  other  kinds  of  sleep  that 
produce  wonderful  dreams  to  delight  and  afflict  humanity. 

Do  not  understand  us  to  say  that  our  brain  organs  are 
all  in  action  when  we  are  awake,  for  this  would  be  an  error. 
Few  persons  can  laugh  and  cry  at  the  same  time.  No  man 
can  be  in  a  good  humor  and  angry  at  the  same  time.  Asleep 
or  awake  we  do  one  thing  at  a  time.  Persons  sometimes 
walk  ana  handle  things  in  theii  sleep,  but  when  the  organ  of 
time  is  brought  into  action  we  are  awake. 

Now  let  us  put  the  proposition  that  the  mind  is  external 
to  another  test.  Let  us  take  a  man  that  you  have  all  known 
for  many  years  to  be  an  honest  man  and  a  good  citizen.  He 
ha>  met  with  a  sad  misfortune;  lost  his  pocket-book;  close 


PEN    PICTURES. 


125 


the  door  and  let  us  detect  the  thief.  Hold!  I  made  a  mis- 
take in  regard  to  the  article.  He  has  lost  his  mind.  Where 
shall  we  go  to  look  for  it  and  how  can  we  describe  it  ?  Let 
us  take  him  to  the  lunatic  asylum;  the  doctors  will  apply 
soothing  remedies  to  his  brain,  and  if  they  succeed  in  restor- 
ing a  healthy  action  to  his  mental  organs  they  will  find  his 
mind.  But  where  will  they  find  it  ?  They  will  find  it  ready 
to  enter  his  brain  as  soon  as  good  health  to  organism  is 
restored.  They  will  find  it  where  the  sleeping  man  finds  it 
when  he  awakes;  they  will  find  that  it  is  an  element  pervad- 
ing the  universe. 

Our  mental  organs  are  subject  to  disease;  we  go  blind, 
deaf,  or  crazy.  Sometimes  the  eye  is  affected,  and  we  see 
two  objects  where  there  is  but  one.  When  the  eye  is  restored 
we  see  nature  as  it  is.  Every  organ  in  the  brain  may  thus 
be  disturbed,  until  a  man  will  not  see  nature  in  a  natural  way. 
To  him  friends  are  enemies,  love  is  hatred,  reason  is  fiction, 
and  affection  worthless  ;  he  is  crazy.  Sometimes  one  of  the 
internal  and  invisible  organs  of  the  brain  is  afflicted  and  dis- 
eased, while  the  others  are  not.     We  have  a  monomaniac. 

There  is  a  case  recorded  in  history  of  a  wealthy  man 
who  was  said  to  be  crazy,  The  accusation  was  brought  by 
his  brother,  and  it  was  supposed  that  the  brother  wished  to 
get  possession  of  his  property.  The  case  was  taken  into 
court;  the  learned  attorneys  questioned  him  for  more  than 
an  hour  without  getting  the  slightest  evidence  of  insanity. 
The  judge  and  a  crowded  court  room  were  almost  ready  to 
declare  the  man  sane,  when  some  one  whispered  in  the  ear 
of  the  plaintiff,  "Ask  him  about  religion."  The  moment 
the  question  was  put  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  exclaimed,  "/ 
am  the  Christ!"  He  was  insane  on  the  subject  of  religion; 
upon  all  other  subjects  perfectly  rational. 

A  man  may  be  blind,  but  while  he  is  blind  it  is  no  evi- 
dence that  he  is  deaf.     The  open  and  visible  organs  of  the 


126  PEN    PICTURES. 

brain  are  manifest  to  all  men.  The  invisible  mental  organs 
are  only  revealed  by  the  deepest  research.  The  case  of  the 
monomaniac  stands  before  you  as  one  of  my  witnesses. 
Cross-examine  him,  dissect  his  mind,  otherwise,  if  you  can. 

Careful  reflection  upon  the  subject  of  mental  philosophy 
opens  every  mans  eyes.  The  light  of  the  sun  will  not  illu. 
minate  the  brain  if  you  shut  your  eyes.  And  the  light  of  the 
great  star  of  intellect  will  not  illuminate  the  brain  if  you  shut 
the  eyes  of  your  mental  organs,  permit  them  to  remain  clos- 
ed, or  become  diseased.  When  the  eyes  grow  dim  we  put  on 
glasses,  when  self  esteem  is  low  we  put  on  a  new  coat  and 
feel  prouder,  when  we  disagree  in  philosophy  we  should  put 
on  the  mantle  of  charity. 

We  will  now  call  your  attention  to  the  last  case  in  this 
class  of  evidences. 

The  mind  can  be  expelled  from  the  brain  by  a  chemical 
operation,  and  therefore  must  be  external.  Let  us  take  anoth- 
er sensible  man,  whom  we  all  know  to  be  a  sensible  man  in 
every  sense  of  the  word  manhood,  give  him  a  gill  of  whisky 
and  a  chemical  operation  commences  in  his  stomach,  repeat 
the  dose  and  the  chemicals  begin  to  simmer,  repeat  again, 
and  again  and  they  begin  to  boil;  the  man  is  drunk;  not  only 
drunk,  he  is  also  a  fool.  His  mind  has  been  expelled  from 
his  brain — steam  occupies  its  place.  Cool  down  the  steam 
with  ice  water  and  .buttermilk,  get  the  man  sober,  and  his 
mind  returns.  Oh!  God,  is  not  that  a  noble  principle  hover- 
ing 'round  a  wretched  man ;  while  his  body  is  wallowing  in 
the  mud ;  as  soon  as  he  can  raise  his  head  and  wipe  the  mud 
from  his  brow,  deserted  reason,  insulted  and  abused,  without 
warrant  or  authority,  kindly  re-enters  the  brain. 

If  there  be  in  this  assembly  any  who  feel  aggrieved 
at  this  description  of  a  drunken  man,  totr-em  I  say,  it  is  with 
no  feelings  of  animosity  against  the  man,  for  the  man  has 


127 

PEN    PICTURES. 


been  driven  out  of  the  body,  and  it  is  the  body  that  is  drunk 

3nd  Snfytrs  ago,  before  the  days  of  the  red  ribbon,  I 
Uved  in  a  southern  village.     In  the  dusk  of  the  evening  I  saw 
a  man   or  rather  the  body  of  a  man,  fall  upon  the  sidewalk. 
wTth  two  other  friends  we  approached  that  body  ;  we  met  he 
steam  of  whisky;  not  dead    but  drunk      We  and  £« 
bodv  into  a  back-room  and  laid  it  on  a  bed.     The  face  inch 
cated  the  Caucasian  race,  the  costume  respectability,  nothing 
"ore  did  that  body  reveal.      There  was  -  -*£££ 
man  there ;  to  us  that  body  was  a  stranger.     We  all  turned  in 
and  slept  through  the  night.     Who  do  you  suppose  came  early 
next  morning  and  claimed  that  body.     Bill  Jones,  a  man  who 
Hved"  a  distance,  and  whom  we  all  knew  b, 'reputation  for 
Bill  was  a  public  man.     We  preserved  the  body,  God  pre- 
served the  mind,  and  when  the  mind  came  back  Bill  Jones 

MmeWe  not  leave  Bill  Jones  and  return  to  the  subject  of  all 
subjects.     The  foundation  stone  and  bed  roek  of  all  philosophy 

"  '"fdo  not  claim  the  ability  to  unfold  all  the  beauties  of  in- 
tellect I  feel  like  a  stranger  in  a  woodland  country,  only 
Sing  a  pathway  that  may  be  worked  out  into  a  highway  by 
some  more  learned  and  illustrious  mind,  who  may  this  night, 
couched  in  infant  garb,  be  slumbering  in  some  log  cabin, 
oTewhere  in  the  broad  domain  of  our  beautiful  land,  or 
way  forward  in  th.  future  womb  of  time,  to  come  upon  the 
stage  of  action  when  I  have  mingled  with  the  worthless  trash 
of  time,  to  forget  and  be  forgotten.  , 

We  live  in  a  great  country,  our  people  are  awakening 
from  a  long  night  of  ignorance.  The  modus  operand,  of 
mental  improvement  is  just  beginning  to  emerge  above  the 
SL  horizon  of  our  civilization.  We  who  live  to-day  are 
on  y  standing  in  the  twilight  of  the  great  star  of  intellect, 


128  PEN    PICTURES 

that  will  illuminate  like  a  noon-day  sun  all  coming  genera- 
tions of  men. 

Sleep  on,  sweet  babe — the  gentle  influences  of  mind  will 
gradually  arouse  thy  torpid  brain.  The  infant  brain  is  like  a 
casket  with  blank  pages,  which  is  to  be  closely  printed,  and 
positively  stereotyped  by  eternal  circumstances. 

Let  us  go  to  that  fond  American  mother  and  take  her  little 
son,  nine  months  old.  We  will  not  take  the  child  ruthlessly 
from  the  mother's  arms,  but  let  us  take  him  for  the  sake  of 
the  argument.  Transport  him  across  the  water,  place  him  in 
a  French  family ;  the  French  woman  will  be  as  kind  to  him  as 
his  own  mother;  raise  him  up  in  all  the  beauties  of  manhood. 
But  he  will  speak  the  French  language  and  not  understand  a 
word  of  the  language  of  his  mother  tongue.  So,  likewise  if 
you  take  the  infant  of  a  French  lady  and  give  it  to  an  Amer- 
ican woman,  it  will  speak  the  English  language.  And  if  you 
would  take  the  infant  of  a  Christian  mother  and  give  it  to  the 
better-half  of  a  cut-throat,  far  removed  from  good  society,  in 
some  dark  retreat,  struggling  for  existence  by  robbery  and 
theft,  I  care  not  how  kind  the  adopted  parents  of  that  child 
may  be  (in  their  way)  when  he  grows  up  to  manhood,  he  will 
be  a  cut-throat  and  a  robber.  And  if  a  Christian  woman  go 
like  guardian  angel  into  this  dark  retreat,  and  tnke  an  infant 
born  to  those  people,  transport  it  across  the  gulf,  that  will 
separate  it  from  its  nativity,  surround  it  with  good  society, 
and  raise  it  up  in  a  Christian  family,  that  boy  will  become  a 
good  citizen  and  an  honest  man. 

These  are  general  rules,  from  which  there  is  no  appeal 
except  to  the  laws  of  hereditary  descent,  of  which  we  intend 
to  speak.  Would  to  God,  that  I  could  indelibly  impress 
these  facts  upon  the  brain  of  every  mother  in  America. 

Teach  your  children  the  bright  lessons  of  temperance, 
virtue,  truth  and  honesty;  stamp  them  on  the  infant  brain, 
and   you   will   elevate   the   manhood   of  your   country.      Xo 


PEN    PICTURES.  129 

^reat  man  ever  had  a  common  mother.  God's  blessing  is 
upon  the  mother  of  every  bright  little  boy  if  she  will  heed 
the  voice  of  nature.  Do  not  talk  to  your  2ttle  son  like  he 
was  a  puppy ;  talk  to  him  like  you  would  to  a  man,  and  you 
will  cultivate  his  manhood  to  rise  up  ia  a  tower  of  strength, 
and  vindicate  the  memory  of  his  mother. 

And  let  me  say  to  every  mother  in  this  assembly,  if  you 
are  oppressed  by  hard-favored-fortune,  and  see  others  around 
you  enjoying  things  you  can  not  have,  be  not  discouraged. 
Remember  that  your  intellect  is  the  storehouse  of  your 
children.  There  must  they  go  for  the  precious  jewels  of  dis- 
tinction that  will  shine  upon  the  garments  of  their  character, 
in  the  crowded  highways  of  the  world.  There  must  they  go 
for  the  oil  to  illuminate  their  pathway  through  the  darkest 
deserts  of  the  land.  Turn  them  not  away  with  empty  hands, 
and  when  the  last  scene  has  closed  upon  their  eyes,  and  the 
last  word  is  spoken  by  the  lips,  that  word  will  be  God  and 
my  mother. 

The  infant  loves  the  brightest  light,  with  what  unabating 
tenacity  it  will  gaze  at  the  burning  lamp.  The  eye  is  a  mental 
organ,  and  all  of  our  mental  organs  love  the  brightest  lights. 
When  the  light  of  evil  is  held  up  in  brilliant  colors  the  young 
mind  is  attracted  in  that  direction.  Oh  !  how  many  mothers 
we  see  who  are  so  engaged  with  household  work  that  the 
little  child  is  given  up  to  the  care  of  a  wicked  and  ignorant 
nurse.  The  force  of  education  is  acknowledged  by  all  parties 
yet  but  few  seem  to  observe  the  early  period  of  its  com- 
mencement. 

When  we  have  no  eyes,  we  do  not  recognize  the  light 
of  the  sun,  though  the  whole  universe  is  filled  with  light. 
And  if  we  fail  to  be  just,  virtuous,  and  happy,  it  is  not  be- 
cause there  is  no  justice,  virtue,  and  happiness,  it  is  because 
we  have  no  mental  organs  to  receive  the  impressions;  it  is 
because  we  have  not  cultiva-ted  these  organs, 


130  PEN    PICTURES. 

Some  say  that  this  philosophy  destroys  moral  accounta- 
bility. To  them  I  answer :  If  every  father  in  the  land  would 
refuse  to  lend  the  aid  of  his  strong  arms,  to  anything  that 
produces  evil,  and  every  mother  in  the  land  would  stamp 
upon  the  infant  brain  of  her  children,  the  bright  lessons  of 
virtue,  truth  and  honesty,  for  three  generations,  the  Devil 
would  have  to  camp  out,  for  he  would  not  find  enter- 
tainment in  the  humblest  cottage  in  the  land. 

One  generation  works  for  the  benefit  of  the  next.  How 
many  fathers  toil  through  sunshine  and  storm,  for  half  a  cen- 
tury, to  lay  up  a  store  of  gold  for  their  children,  and  send 
them  out  into  the  broad  world  with  full  pockets  and  empty 
heads.  How  many  mothers  labor  from  the  dawn  of  day  until 
the  dusk  of  evening,  brushing  the  dust  from  her  chambers 
and  darkening  up  her  rooms,  that  no  bright  ray  of  light  may 
approach  her  infant,  in  its  cradle. 

Oh!  mistaken  ?nolher,  hear  a  lesson  from  the  Mammoth 
Cave,  in  Kentucky,  in  that  cave  tl  ere  is  a  river,  in  that  river 
there  is  fish,  and  those  fish  have  no  eyes.  No  bright  ray  of 
light  ever  goes  to  that  river  and  the  eye  of  the  fish  not  being 
illuminated,  disappears. 

Oh  !  how  cruel!  to  shut  up  a  little  prattling  babe  in  a  dark 
place.  Throw  it  around  loose,  if  you  wish  the  windows  of 
its  brain,  and  looking-glass  of  its  soul,  to  beam  with  beauty. 

One  generation  lives  for  another  mentally  as  well  as  phys- 
ically. We  should  all  remember  that  for  all  that  we  are,  as 
good  men  and  women,  we  are  indebted  to  our  parents,  and 
the  society  in  which  we  were  reared. 

Now  let  us  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  the  argument,  that 
we  perform  all  kinds  of  misdeeds,  and  practice  all  kinds  of 
evil,  for  any  considerable  length  of  time.  With  this  example 
before  our  children  the  race  would  go  back  to  barbarism. 

Old  men  are  passing  away.  This  great  country  with  its 
lakes  ancHits  rivers,  towns  and  cities,  government  and  destiny, 


PEN    PICTURES.  131 

will  soon  be  transmitted  to  the  hands  of  our  children  :  many 
of  whom  are  now  in  the  blossom  of  infancy,  and  arms  of 
their  mothers 

There  is  no  patriotism  in  all  the  wide  world,  that  equals 
true  love  of  children.  He  who  has  no  sympathy  for  the 
children,  and  will  do  nothing  for  the  benefit  of  posterity,  is 
no  friend  of  his  country.  He  is  wandering  in  doubt  and 
darkness,  no  bright  ray  of  light  from  the  great  star  of  intel- 
lect has  ever  penetrated  the  dark  recesses  of  his  brain. 

Whenever  I  see  (if  I  shall  live  to  see),  the  great  minds 
of  the  country,  taking  hold. of  evil  by  the  horns,  and  remov- 
ing the  bulls  of  error  out  of  the  pale  of  society,  and  leading 
our  children  to  the  fountains  of  nature,  baptizing  them  in  the 
water  of  progress,  I  will  feel  like  St.  John  when  he  said  :  "I 
saw  an  angel  come  down  from  heaven ;  having  the  key  of  the 
bottomless  pit,  and  a  great  chain  in  his  hand,  and  he  laid 
hold  of  the  dragon— that  old  serpent— which  is  the  Devil  and 
Satan,  and  bound  him  a  thousand  years.' 

It  is  an  easy  going  hobby-horse  to  charge  the  short-com- 
ings of  humanity  to  the  Devil.  Society  molds  the  character 
of  her  children.  When  a  good  mold  is  cast— the  Devil- 
is  cast  out.  Society  molds  the  minds  of  our  youth,  this  fact 
all  parents  feel — they  may  deny  it  with  the  lips.  But  let  the 
villainous  face  of  vice  approach  the  sacred  nursery  of  their 
children,  and  they  will  confess  it  with  the  truthful  heart. 

If  you  want  morality,  you  must  cultivate  it  in  the  infant 
brain,  not  in  a  few  isolated  cases  but  throughout  the  broad 
neighborhood.  You  had  as  well  plant  corn  without  turning  the 
hogs  out  of  the  field,  as  raise  your  children  surrounded  with 
the  sinks  of  corruption. 

How  many,  in  our  towns  and  cities,  have  parlors  shut 
up  with  thousands  for  the  moth  to  eat.  Go  to  them  with 
the  common  school  tax,  and  they  think  the  Devil  is  after 
'em  with  a  sharp  stick. 


132  PEN    PICTURES. 

When  a  new  idea  comes  upon  the  stage,  it  comes  as  a 
stranger.  And  if  its  mission  be  to  a  crowd  the  old  idea  off 
the  stage,  there  is  a  herculean  task  before  it.  The  old  idea, 
though  it  may  be  false  philosophy,  has  its  old  friends  and 
associates.  Everybody  knows  it  and  everybody  is  ready  to 
assist  it.  The  new  idea  must  fight  single-handed  and  alone, 
Thus  we  see  in  all  ages  of  the  world,  new  ideas  have  appear- 
ed and  sunk  again,  to  remain  in  the  dark  for  ages. 

When  Galileo  told  the  people  that  the  earth  moved, 
the  old  idea  that  the  earth  was  the  center  of  the  universe, 
backed  by  a  host  of  friends,  crowded  the  new  idea  off  the 
stage,  to  slumber  in  darkness  until  it  was. resurrected  by  Sir 
Isaac  Newton. 

I  come  now  to  speak  of  mind  more  in  detail,  and  of  its 
power  on  the  mental  organs.  Thought  is  the  result  of  action, 
the  action  of  anything  is  the  result  of  power.  The  running 
boy,  or  the  walking  man,  whose  steps  are  directed  by  the 
mind,  is  slow  to  realize  that  fact,  because  some  of  the  opera- 
tions of  the  mind  are  so  refined,  that  they  are  almost  imper- 
ceptible.    When  asleep  or  dead  we  do  not  walk  or  run. 

There  is  a  living  power  and  a  mental  power,  mysterious- 
ly bl-nded  in  the  elements  of  nature,  No  silent  brain  ever 
thinks,  while  in  that  condition.  Hence  the  sleeping  man 
does  not  think,  yet  he  does  live.  And  upon -this  mysterious 
separation  of  the  mental  and  the  living  power,  we  conclude 
that  life  developes  organism,  and  the  mental  element  operat- 
ing upon  the  brain  organs  produces  sensation,  which  is  the 
dividing  link  between  the  vegetable  and  animal  kingdom,  and 
the  ground-work  of  the  mental  light  of  the  world.  That  life 
developes  organism  without  producing  sensation,  thought  or 
mind,  is  a  fact  known  to  all  physicians,  and  to  every  student 
of  nature. 

Life  and  mind  are  two  parallel  powers,  running  in  the 
same  direction,  and  apparently  working  with  the  same  tools. 


PEN    PICTURES.  133 

Life  builds  the  house,  mind  occupies  it,  that  is  its. residence 
is  in  the  mental  organs.  The  body  may  become  diseased, 
broken  down,  the  tenement  so  shattered,  that  life  is  almost 
extinct;  while  the  mind  remains  romantic  and  bright,  as  the 
morning  star.  On  the  other  hand  the  body  may  remain  firm 
and  bucksome,  as  a  blue-head  buffalo,  and  the  mind  dwindle 
into  a  narrow  channel,  as  dark  as  the  valley  of  death,  and 
gloomy  as  the  image  of  night. 

The  character  of  all  our  sensations  is  produced  by  the 
mental  organ,  brought  into  action.  The  sound  of  a  bell  pro- 
duces a  sensation  on  the  brain,  through  a  mental  organ — the 
ear. 

Form,  shape  and  beauty  produce  a  sensation  on  the 
brain,   through  a  mental  organ,   the  eye. 

The  mental  element  passing  through  the  organ  of.com- 
bativeness  produces  a  sensation  on  the  brain,  but  it  is  not  a 
sensation  of  love,  and  when  the  mental  element  passes 
through  the  organ  of  love  it  will  not  produce  a  sensation  of 
hatred. 

The  crowded  streets  of  a  commercial  city  produce  a  sen- 
sation on  the  brain,   but  it  is  not  a  sensation  of  solitude. 

Go  with  me  to  the  deep  confines  of  a  distant  valley, 
where  no  trace  of  human  foot  is  found.  The  wild  flowers 
unfold  their  beauty  by  the  side  of  the  brook.  The  vine 
clings  to  the  branch  of  the  majestic  oak  with  unabating  te- 
nacity. The  blue  arch  of  heaven  terminates  the  vision  and 
a  sensation  is  produced  on  the  brain.  It  is  solitude,  admira- 
tion and  awe. 

All  of  our  sensations  are  received  through  the  mental 
organs,  and  where  there  is  no  brain  organ  for  any.  given  sen- 
sation,  passion  or  feeling,   that  feeling  cannot  be  produced. 

But  the  old  philosophers  say  mind  is  internal,  produced 
by  the  brain,  and  power  of  life,  and  here  we  lork  horns. 
We  have  stripped  this  old  philosophy  of  its   overcoat.     Now 


134  PEN    PICTURES. 

let  us  take  its  undergarments,   not  with  a  graceless  grasp,  but 
with  the  tender  fingers  of  nature's  soft  hand. 

The  old  philosophers  say  life  produces  brain  and  brain 
produces  mind  inseparably  and  indistinct.  Ocular  demons- 
tration compels  them  to  admit  that  mind  is  sometimes  absent 
from  the  brain  while  life  is  not.  In  this  case  life  ceases  to 
produce  mind.  How  is  this  ?  What  checks  the  thought  of 
a  sleeping  man?  Let  every  one  in  this  assembly  stop  think- 
ing. Stop.  Don't  think  about  anything.  Itis  impossible,  yet 
when  you  sleep  your  thought  stops. 

The  old  philosophers  say  when  you  sleep  the  engineer 
shuts  off  .steam.  This  engineer  incognito  in  the  waking  state 
has  had  different  names  in  different  ages  of  the  world.  He 
is  now  usually  called  free  will.  He  is  a  good  engineer,  but 
not  always  on  duty.  He  sometimes  permits  the  fireman  to 
usurp  his  office.  This  fireman  has  also  had  different  names 
in  different  ages  of  the  world.  He  is  now  called  Old  Nick.* 
He  is  a  good  fireman  but  a  bad  engineer.  His  object  is  to 
run  off  the  track.  He  would  have  been  discharged  long  ago, 
but  he  keeps  up  the  sham. 

Free  will  is  constantly  admonished  to  watch  Old  Nick, 
for  they  say  that  when  the  grave  station  is  passed,  if  Old 
Nick  is  not  subdued,  he'll  kick  free  will  overboard  and  run 
the  thing  off  the  track. 

Personifying  the  passions  or  mental  organs  is  one  of  the 
relics  of  the  dark  ages. 

The  Greeks  and  Romans  were  the  first  phrenologists  in 
the  world.  They  predicated  upon  the  organ  of  combativeness 
the  existence  of  God  Mars,  who  delighted  in  the  blood  and 
carnage  of  the  battle  field. 

They  placed  a  bandage  over  the  eyes  of  Cupid  to  estab- 
lish the  axiom  that  love  hides  a  multitude  of  faults.  No  won- 
der the  Hebrew  prophet  exclaimed,  man  is  strange  and 
wonderfully  made. 

=-•  The   Devil. 


PEN    PICTURES.  135 

As  I  said  before  when  a  man  sleeps  his  brain  organs  all 
close  up  like  the  eye.  When  he  awakes  the  light  illuminates 
his  brain  through  the  eye  and  the  mental  element  illuminates 
his  brain  through  the  brain  organs,  and  he  is  immediately 
under  the  influence  of  his  will?  Not  so,  but  of  experience 
and  desire.  Experience  is  the  light  of  the  past,  desire  the 
gratification  of  the  passions. 

Do  not  understand  me  to  say  a  man  has  no  will,  for  that 
would  be  an  error.  I  say  his  will  is  formed  or  brought  into 
being  by  predominating  passions.  It  may  be  half  white,  but 
it  is  not  free  born. 

Experience  teaches  us  that  honey  is  sweet  and  the  bee 
will  sting.  If  the  sensation  of  appetite  is  stronger  than  the 
sensation  of  fear  we  will  take  the  honey. 

We  see  the  way  before  us.  The  sensations  of  vice  invite 
us  on,   while  the  sensations  of  virtue  hold  us  back. 

A  struggle  of  sensations  here  ensues  that  is  forcibly  de- 
scribed by  St.  Paul :  "  The  good  that  I  would  I  do  not,  but 
the  evil  that  I  would  not  that  I  do." 

We  find  ourselves  under  the  influence  of  mental  feelings. 
Our  best  and  only  true  guide  is  experience.  Holy  men  of 
old  said,  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard.  Disease,  dis- 
grace, darkness  and  death  lie  before  him.  Experience  in- 
vites him  to  return  to  the  path  of  virtue  and  peace.  Expe- 
rience is  the  rule  by  which  we  try  everything.  Many  new 
things  appear  upon  which  we  look  with  favor,  but  when  ex- 
perience lays  them  aside  they  are  dead  and  beyond  resurrec- 
tion. All  schools  of  philosophy  on  doubtful  points  are  afraid 
of  experience.  From  those  points  they  try  to  frighten  you 
like  they  would  a  child  who  cannot  swim,  by  saying  don't  go 
there  its  deep  water. 

Reflection  is  a  repetition  of  thought.   If  you  pass  a  house, 
a.  grove  of  trees  and  an  open  field  their  image  is  imperfect  in- 
the  memory.     Pass  them  the  second,   the  third  and  the  fourth 


136  PEN    PICTURES. 

time  and  their  image  is  perfected.  Every  board  on  the  house, 
every  leaning  tree,  the  shades  and  shadows  of  the  open  field 
are  treasured  in  the  memory.  This  is  reflection  applied  to 
the  mental  organ,  the  eye.  When  we  are  presented  with  a 
problem  we  pass  it  through  the  mind  until  all  of  its  parts  be- 
come familiar,  and  this  is  reflection  upon  any  given  problem 
by  the  mind. 

Reason  is  comparison.  Take  two  sticks,  place  them 
some  distance  apart  and  you  are  unable  to  determine  which 
is  the  longest,  because  the  distance  between  them  disturbs 
in  some  degree  the  sense  of  vision.  Place  them  together  and 
you  see  at  once  which  is  the  longest.  This  decides  the  sense 
of  vision,  and  we  decide  all  of  our  difficulties  upon  the  same 
principle. 

Our  problems  must  all  be  brought  together  and  meas- 
ured.    You  may  call  it  comparison,    experience  or  reason. 

To  the  frequent  application  of  the  terms  reflection  and 
reason  we  apply  the  term  wisdom,  which  is  the  experience  of 
the  age,   and  of  all  the  past  ages  of  the  world. 

The  Greeks  and  Romans  personified  wisdom  by  the 
Goddess  Minerva,  according  to  their  faith.  The  Goddess 
Minerva  ruled  over  the  mental  world,  distributing  to  or  with- 
holding wisdom  from  mortal  man. 

Solomon,  the  celebrated  King  of  the  Jews,  personified 
wisdom  in  his  book  of  proverbs  in  the  8th  chapter.  He  rep- 
resents wisdom  in  council  with  the  Creator. 

And  Aristotle,  who  lived  three  hundred  years  before  the 
Christian  era,  asserted  that  human  reason  did  not  originate 
with  the  body,  and  that  it  was  bestowed  upon  it  from  the  out- 
side. 

You  may  trace  the  mind  from  the  first  indication,  sensa- 
tion and  on  to  thought.  Reflection,  reason  and  wisdom, 
and  whatever  link  you  strike,  10  or  10,000,  break  the  chain 
alike. 


PEN    PICTURES.  *3« 

All  of  the  different  names  that  we  have  given  to  the 
manifestations  of  mind  are  produced  by  the  same  intellect,  and 
that  intellect  is  not  produced  by  the  digestion  of  food.  It  is 
an  eternal  principle  pervading  the  universe.  It  is  th*  domin- 
ion of  mind  over  matter. 

It  is  not  my  province  or  intention  to  dispute  any  man's 
religious  faith.  No  man  can  work  without  faith.  No  man 
caniive  without  faith.  His  family,  his  countrymen,  the  hu- 
man race,   are  entitled  to  his  love  and  esteem,   but  his   faith 

is  his  own. 

I  would  not  raise  a  vandal  hand  against  the  invigorating 
name  of  liberty.  It  is  every  man's  right  to  enjoy  his  own 
faith,  because  faith  is  the  ferryman  who  sets  us  all  across  the 
dark  river.  The  great  interest  of  humanity-— here— lies  in  con- 
duct—and the  great  teacher  said,  men  do  not  gather  in  grapes 
of  thorns,   or  figs  of  thistles. 

One  more  picture  and  the  curtain  falls. 

Talk  about  the  Free  Thinkers,  the  Christians  and  the 
Infidels ;  through  the  long  ages  of  the  historic  period,  they 
have  waged  a  war  of  words  that  you  might  haul  by  the  cart- 
load and  fill  a  common  barn— a  pile  of  rubbish  that  would 
discourage  and  dismay  the  boldest  student  in  the  world.  A 
man  had  as  well  undertake  to  circumnavigate  the  globe  with 
a  wheel-barrow  as  to  read  and  understand  all  of  the  books 
that  have  been  written  and  published  on  mental  philosophy. 
It  would  be  sacrilege  to  throw  another  grain  of  sand  on  this 
mountain  of  opinions,  were  it  not  a  worthy  heroism  to  teach 
man  the  value  of  his  own  mental  freedom. 

Ow  philosophy  flows  as  freely  as  a  river  of  water;  we 
enter  no  man's  brain  for  the  purpose  of  taking  a  prisoner;  we 
have  no  mysterious  judgments— passed  by  a  court  of  doubtful 
authority — to  execute.  Every  man's  brain  is  an  Empire, 
duly  commissioned  and  appointed  to  fight  its  own  battles  and 
work  out  its  own  destiny,  whether  lie  be  a  Baptist,  Methodist 


138 


PEN    PICTURES. 


or  Presbyterian — whether  his  coat  be  taken  from  a  Catholic 
or  Protestant  box,  so  it  covers  a  true  and  faithful  heart. 

Our  words  are  taken  from  Nature ;  our  book  is  written 
by  Nature's  soft  hand,  and  needs  no  interpreter.  We  speak 
the  same  language  to  every  man,  whether  he  be  at  the  north 
pole  or  under  the  equator ;  whether  his  lot  be  cast  upon  a 
lone  island  in  the  sea,  or  among  the  crowded  crowned  heads 
of  Europe;  whether  he  be  king,  or  subject,  or  a  favored  son 
of  "the  land  of  the  free  and  home  of  the  brave." 


LECTURE  IV.— MAN  AND  ANIMALS. 

What  little  time'  we  have,  even  in  the  longest  life,  for 
observation,  and  when  we  are  confined  to  one  spot  on  the 
earth,  we  only  see  the  things  that  surround  us  and  are  pecu- 
liar to  the  place  upon  which  we  live.  It  is  by  the  light  of 
history  that  we  see  the  actions  of  other  men  in  other  places 
and  other  ages  of  the  world,  and  if  we  undertake  to  pass 
judgment  upon  the  human  race  without  the  light  of  history, 
how  limited  our  knowledge,  how  unjust  our  judgment.  When 
we  look  back  through  the  glass  of  history,  though  it  may  be 
dark  in  some  places,  and  observe  the  actions  of  the  distin- 
guished men — among  all  nations  and  in  all  ages  of  the  world, 
from  the  remotest  historic  period  of  antiquity  to  the  present 
time — how  much  better  prepared  are  we  to  pass  judgment 
upon  the  character  of  man.  History  stamps  virtuous  and 
noble  actions  with  the  seal  of  applause ;  vicious  and  evil  deeds 
with  the  indelible  ink  of  infamy. 

Brave  and  noble  deeds,  performed  by  heroes  of  a  by- 
gone age,  stand  as  boldly  forth  as  does  a  lighthouse  on  the 
shore  of  destiny ;  dark  and  unrelenting  evils,  performed  by 
cowardly  actors,  is  a  warning  to  us  and  to  all  succeeding 
generations  of  men. 

While  life  and  time  shall  pass  away, 
The  deeds  of  men  are  sure  to  stay ; 
Impressions  made  on  the  sands  of  tim 
In  every  age  and  in  every  clime, 
Are  covered  not  by  time  nor  space 
But  lasting  as  the  human  race. 


140  PEN    PICTURES, 

Seven  hundred  and  seventy-six  years  before  the  Christian 
era,  Greek  historians  recorded  the  name  of  the  victor  in  the 
Olympic  games,  and  this  is  the  first  reliable  date  of  ancient 
:ime.  The  Chaldean,  the  Egyptian,  the  Babylonian,  the 
Assyrian  and  the  Persian  empires  had  their  rise  and  fall,  and 
left  their  remains  for  the  future  antiquarian  to  search  in  vain 
for  the  date  of  their  rise  or  time  of  their  glory. 

The  Jews  crystalized  on  the  western  borders  of  Asia. 
Their  laws  forbade  them  to  intermingle  with  other  people, 
and  they  made  no  advance  in  civilization  from  the  time 
Joshua  led  the  Israelites  over  the  river  Jordan  until  Titus 
destroyed  Jerusalem  and  Jewish  nationality.  The  philosophy 
of  the  priests  and  rulers  was  carefully  recorded  and  preserved 
in  the  archives  of  their  temples.  They  paid  little  or  no  atten- 
tion to  time  or  dates. 

A  careful  comparison  of  their  records  and  traditions 
places  the  antiquity  of  man  at  about  7,320  years.  Modern 
antiquarians  think  this  time  entirely  too  short — indeed,  some- 
have  ventured  to  place  the  antiquity  of  man  as  far  back  as 
24,000  years.  How  long  man  lived  a  purely  animal  life  we 
have  no  means  of  knowing.  Scientific  men  speak  of  three 
ages,  which  they  denominate  the  "Stone,"  the  "Bronze" 
and  the  "Iron"  ages.  In  the  infant  age  of  the  human  race 
they  made  no  tools  of  anything  but  stone — all  of  their  imple- 
ments were  made  of  stone.  At  a  more  advanced  period 
bronze  appears,  decorating  their  implements  and  ornaments. 

With  the  "Iron  Age"  commences  heroic  civilization  and 
the  light  of  written  history.  This  light  first  illuminated  the 
hills  of  Greece.  All  Asia  had  been  an  immense  battle-field. 
The  Grecian  States,  on  the  edge  of  the  greit  waves  of  con- 
flict, emerged  from  the  night  of  darkness.  In  this  rude  and 
barbarous  age  a  knowledge  of  letters  animated  the  men  of 
Greece  with  the  spirit  of  liberty.  The  Egyptian,  Chinese  and 
Hindoo  people  sought  repose  in  non-intercourse,  contented 


PEN   PICTURES.  I^1 

to  remain  in  their  own  native  darkness,  reached  a  certain 
point  of  regulated  order  and  stopped.  The  Chaldean,  As- 
syrian and  Persian  races  kept  in  the  stream  of  progress. 

The  moving  to  and  fro  of  great  bodies  of  men,  the  wars 
of  conquest  and  subjugation,  gave  rise  to  commerce.  The 
intermingling  of  nations  advanced  civilization,  while  the  deso- 
lating hand  of  war  destroyed  the  identity  of  existing  people. 
The  intermingling  of  races  gave  rise  to  a  nobler  blood;  and, 
with  the  letters  of  Greece  and  rise  of  Rome,  we  see  the 
Caucasian  race  come  upon  the  stage  of  action,  unfolding  the 
great  work  of  genius  and  progress.  How  far  they  will  ulti- 
mately go,  lies  way  forward  in  the  future  womb  of  time. 

Diverse  from  the  course  of  the  sun,  human  genius  rises 
up  in  the  West  and  flows  toward  the  East.  Alexander  the 
Great  rose  up  in  the  West  and  conquered  the  nations  of  the 
East  •  Constantine  the  Great  rose  up  in  the  West  and  made 
himself  master  of  the  Roman  Empire;  Charlemagne  restored 
the  West  long  after  the  Eastern  division  of  the  Roman  Empire 
perished.  In  all  of  the  great  battles  of  earth,  the  eagle  of 
victory  has  hovered  'round  western  arms.  In  our  late  war, 
the  flag  of  victory  followed  western  men.  The  heart  ana 
soul  of°this  country,  is  in  the  Mississippi  Valley. 

I  demonstrated  in  my  lecture  on  time  and  motion,  that 
the  human  race  approached  the  middle  of  the  historic  period, 
before  any  instrument  was  invented  for  keeping  time.  The 
ancients  paid  no  attention  to  chronology.  The  Chaldean 
was  the  first  empire.  Abram,  the  father  of  the  Jewish  na- 
tion, went  out  from  Ur,  of  the  Chaldees,  to  go  into  the  land 
of  Canaan.  He  pre-empted  the  land  of  Canaan  from  the 
river  Euphrates  to  the  borders  of  Egypt.  Subsequently  we 
have  the  history  of  the  patriarchs,  preserved  by  tradition. 
Cities  were  built  and  walled  in;  temples  and  pyramids  flour- 
ished and  decayed,  having  stood  as  monuments  of  the  power 
of  kings,  and  slavery  of  the  people. 


142  PEN   PICTURES, 

After  perusing  the  pages  of  book  history,  we  turn  to  tra- 
dition— conflicting  and  contradicting  accounts — turn  us  tc 
cave  history.  We  dig  up  the  bones  of  our  progenitors, 
marked  only  with  long  periods  of  time.  The  cradle  of  hu- 
manity is  lost  in  the  night  of  ages.  The  antiquarian  is  like 
a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  who,  after  losing  every  trace  of 
his  way,  wanders  in  the  shades  of  night. 

I  come  now  to  speak  of  the  Romans,  and  of  the  Cau- 
casian race.  Alexander  the  Great,  Julius  Caesar,  Napoleon 
Bonaparte,  and  George  Washington,  were  all  descendants  of 
the  Caucasian  race.  Galileo,  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  Professor 
Morse  and  Benjamin  Franklin,  descended  from  the  Cauca- 
sian race.  All,  or  nearly  all,  of  the  men  of  progress,  are  de- 
scendants of  the  Caucasian  race.  There  are  a  few  among 
the  Mongolians,  less  among  the  Malays,  and  none  among 
the  negro  races  of  men.  Rome  was  built  on  the  bank  of  the 
river  Tiber  in  Italy;  there  is  nothing  peculiar  about  its  local- 
ity. It  was  the  character  of  the  people  that  made  Rome 
the  mistress  of  the  world.  You  may  trace  that  character  from 
the  Tiber,  in  Italy,  to  the  Thames  in  England,  and  to  the 
Potomac  and  Mississippi  in  America.  Talk  about  a  war  of 
races.  The  barbarism  of  physical  war  is  passing  away.  A 
war  of  intellect  is  coming  upon  the  stage.  This  war  will 
blend  ali  nations  in  one  language  and  one  religion.  Who 
shall  the  victor  be  ?     Let  the  Caucasian  answer. 

Julius  Caesar,  although  brave  and  generous,  laid  the 
foundation  upon  which  was  subsequently  erected  the  great 
power  of  the  Roman  monarchs,  the  history  of  whom,  fur- 
nish us  with  the  outlines  of  vice  and  virture.  Some  of  them 
have  a  high  claim  to  virtue;  none  were  ever  false  to  their 
power,  or  unmindful  of  it.  No  man,  either  of  high  or  low 
estate,  could  escape  the  frown  of  the  Emperor.  There  was 
no  country  upon  the  habitable  earth,  to  which  he  could  fly, 
as  the  land  of  the  free,  and  home  of  the  brave.   Go  where  he 


PEN  PICTURES  143 

would,  the   frown  of  the  Emperor  followed  him  as  dark  as 
the  valley  of  Hinnom  and  certain  as  the  grasp  of  death — there 
was  no  escape  from  it,  but  in  the  Spirit  Land,  where  human- 
ity is  laid  even,  and  the  servant  is  free  from  his  master.    The 
proud  Roman,  when  defeated,  never  asked  for  or  expected  his 
life.     To  him  defeat  and  death  were  the  same  thing.     In  the 
result  of  this  philosophy,  we  see  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
Romans  engaged  in  a  single  battle,  not  against  a  foreign  ene- 
my; it  was  Roman  against  Roman,  steel  against  steel,  Cauca- 
sian against  Caucasian.   The  power  of  the  Emperor  was  every- 
thing.     Hence  we  see  Brutus  and  Cassius  in  the  Senate  house 
with  drawn  daggers,  not  to  spill  the  blood  of  Caesar,  but  to 
waste  the  power  of  the  Emperor.   The  history  of  the  Roman 
Republic  was  fresh  in  the  mind  of  Brutus,  and  he  thought  but 
one  man  (Julius  Caesar)  stood  in  the  way,  and  this  has  given 
rise  to  the  classic  words:   "Not  that  I  love  Caesar  less;  but 
I  love  Rome  more."      When,   afterward,   Brutus  was  over- 
come by  the  united  arms  of  Antony  and  Octavius,  he  conse- 
crated the  declaration  by  throwing  his  body  upon  his  sword, 
exclaiming:   "O!  virtue,   thou  art  but  a  name!"      History 
has  embellished  the  name  of  Brutus  as  the  noblest  Roman  of 
them  all.     With  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire,  we  date  the 
rise  of  modern  nations.     We  have  different  countries,   and 
different  races  of  men — thousands  of  years  have  transpired 
in    giving    character    to    the    different   races.      Our   country 
stands  pre-eminently  in  the  front  rank  of  all  nations  which 
are  in  the  stream  of  progress.      In  most  other  countries  men 
are  born  princes,  they  are  born  aristocrats  and  they  are  born 
workmen.     In  our  country,  a  man  is  not  born  anything — 
he  is  born  to  fill  the  measure  marked  out  by  his  capacity. 
We  have  done  more,  and  we  are  doing  more,  than  any  other 
country,  to  develop  the  intellect  of  the  individual  man. 

All  the  lessons  of  history  teach  us  that  man  is  a  progres- 
sive being,  and  that  in  its  infancy  the  human  race,  like  the 


144  PEN  PICTURES. 

birth  of  the  individual  man,  was  born  naked,  with  no  insti- 
tutions, destitute  of  all  arts  and  sciences,  and  as  some  emi- 
nently learned  men  believe,   speechless,   from  which  condi- 
tion he  has  ever  been  struggling  up  from  the  dark  valley  of 
antiquity  to  a  high  and  holy  hill  of  light.      In  childhood  we 
believe  the  strange  stories  of  our  nurse ;  in  manhood  we  dis- 
card the  stories  and  retain  our  love  for  the  nurse.     "We  love 
the  old  men  who  nursed  the  infancy  of  humanity,  but  we  are 
discarding  their  strange  stories.     The  early  traditions  of  all 
nations,  surround  the  accounts  of  their  origin  with  supernat- 
ural persons  and  events,  which  the  judgment  of  more  en- 
lightened times,  condemn  as  fabulous  and  impossible.     The 
primitive   condition   of  the  human   race    is  represented   by 
very  opposite  opinions.      One  claims  a  golden  age  of  inno- 
cence and  bliss,  the  other  a  wild  and  savage  state  of  barbar- 
ism.    There  must  have  been  a  first  man,  and  it  matters  but 
little   to  us,  whether  we   adopt   the  dirt  philosophy,  that  he 
was   made  of  clay,  or   the  evolution   theory,  that   he  devel- 
oped from   the  lower   animals,     When  he  became  man,  he 
was   not   an   animal  nor  an   angel.     Standing   on   a  middle 
ground  between  the  animal  and  angelic  state,  no  wonder  he 
ate  forbidden  fruit.     No  wonder  his  appetite  continues  for  so 
many  generations.     The  greater  wonder  is,  that  he  is  emerging 
from  the  slavery  of  his  appetite,  and  traveling  on  toward  the 
temple  of  knowledge.     Standing  way  back  in  the  twilight  of 
the  infancy  of  the  race,  he  may  have  resembled  a  speechless 
brute   of  the   forest,  making  his  desires   known   to   those  at 
hand  in  a  barbarous  dialect,  and  eking  out  a  life-time  in  the 
neighborhood  of  his  native  cave.     Now  he  speaks  to  his  fel- 
low-man  across   the   ocean,  traverses   a  continent  in  a   few 
days,  and  circumnavigates,  the  globe  in  a  few  months.     All 
history  teaches  that  man   is  progressive,  and  points  out  the 
difficulties  that  have  been  overcome — those  that  yet  stand  in 


PEN  PICTURES.  145 

the   way— and   that   these   achievements   are   being  accom- 
plished by  universal  education. 

We  come  now  to  speak  more  definitively  of  man  and  an- 
imals, as  seen  0:1  the  broad  .field  of  nature  with  the  naked 
eye.  Let  us  take  mm  down  to  a  level  with  the  animals.  Not 
that  we  wish  to  degrade  humanity,  but  for  the  sake  of  the 
argument  let  us  take  man  down  to  a  level  with  the  animals. 
They  see  by  the  same  light,  hear  by  the  same  means,  feel  by 
the  same  process,  feed  upon  the  same  food,  drink  the  same 
water,  breathe  the  same  air,  and  are  animated  by  the  same 
mental  elements.  Where,  then,  is  the  great  mental  differ- 
ence between  men  and  between  animals  and  man?  Is  it 
not  in  their  physical  and  mental  organism  ? 

Take  a  transparent  bottle,  fill  it  with  beautiful  trinkets, 
and  you  see  all  of  their  variegated  colors.  Then  take  an 
opaque  or  blue  bottle,  fill  it  with  the  same  trinkets,  and  you 
will  hardly  distinguish  one  trinket  from  another — yet  all  that 
you  see  in  the  blue  bottle,  you  see  by  the  same  light  that  you 
see  them  in  the  transparent  bottle.  Then,  is  not  the  difference 
in  the  organism  of  the  two  bottles  containing  the  trinkets? 
And  I  affirm  that  the  mental  difference  between  men  and 
between  animals  and  man,  is  in  the  casket  containing  the 
mental  trinkets— the  size,  nature  and  quality  of  the  brain. 
The  man  who  undertakes  to  overthrow  this  philosophy  will, 
have  a  blue-bottle  head;  for  he  will  begin  by  telling  you 
about  a  spirit,  or  some  dark,  incomprehensible  thing.  The 
dog  is  more  intelligent  than  the  cat.  Is  there  a  dog  spirit 
and  a  cat  spirit?  or  is  the  difference  in  the  mental  organism 
of  the  two  animals?  A  dog  acts  upon  the  basis  of  his 
mental  organism,  and  so  does  a  man.  A  dog  barks  and 
hunts,  like  his  ancestors  did  2,000  years  ago,  because  he  has 
no  mental  organ  of  progress.  Animal  instinct  is  the  great 
hobby-horse  of  old  philosophers.  What  is  instinct?  Arose 
will  smell  as  sweet  by  any  other  name.     They  say  instinct, 


14(3  PEN    PICTURES. 

and  there  they  stop.  What  they  call  instinct  is  nothing  but 
a  mental  organ  transmitted  from  one  generation  to  another. 
We  find  it  in  all  animals,  and  also  in  man,  wise  by  inherit- 
ance. The  bee  builds  a  honey  cell  to-day,  like  its  ancestors 
did  2000  years  ago.  This  knowledge  in  the  bee  is  a  mental 
organ,  transmitted  by  inheritance.  Go  with  me  to  a  beaver's 
dam,  and  you  will  observe  the  beaver  has  not  only  selected  a 
good  locality  on  the  creek — he  has  also  taken  every  advan- 
tage of  the  ground— he  has  executed  his  work  like  his  ances- 
tors did  ages  ago.  And  the  old  philosophers  call  it  instinct. 
They  have  drawn  a  line  between  what  they  have  been  pleased 
to  call  instinct  and  reason. 

It  is  like  the  axle  we  put  through  the  earth,  upon  which 
we  say  the  earth  revolves — it  has  no  existence,  in  reality.  A 
man  who  is  born  blind,  is  mentally  inferior  to  one  born  with 
eye5 — that  is,  he  has  one  brain  organ  less.  And  we  must 
draw  the  line  between  man  and  animals  upon  the  basis  of 
mental  organism.  But  you  must  remember  that  neither  man 
nor  animal  can  learn  or  realize  anything  that  does  not  come 
within  the  scope  of  some  of  his  mental  organs.  Show  a  beau- 
tiful picture  to  a  blind  man,  or  whisper  the  soft  voice  of  love 
in  the  ear  of  a  deaf  woman,  and  what  do  you  accomplish  ? 
Men  learn  to  the  extent  of  their  mental  organism,  and  so  do 
animals,   and  both  receive  knowledge  by  inheritance. 

In  all  ages  of  the  world  there  have  been  men,  wise  by 
inheritance.  They  manifest  their  wisdom  by  a  fixed  organ  in 
the  brain.  Their  ideas  of  the  way  things  ought  to  be  per- 
formed, their  philosophy  of  time  and  space  of  men  and  things 
of  humanity,  and  human  destiny,  with  them  is  all  settled — 
was  known  to  their  fathers  and  transmitted  to  them  by  inher- 
itance. These  men  never  give  anything  to  art,  science,  or 
philosophy.  They  are  like  the  bee  and  the  beaver— willing 
to  work  like  their  ancestors  did  ages  ago. 

Man  has  a  mental  organ  of  progress,  of  which  we  will 


PEN    PICTURES. 


speak  in  our  next  lecture  more  at  length.  It  is  a  law  of  na- 
ture, that  like  produces  like,  and  by  the  force  of  this  law  ail 
of  our  mental  organs  receive  an  impulse  in  the  blossom. 
Primitive  man  commenced  by  cutting  things  with  a  sharp 
stone.  As  genius  and  discoveries  advanced,  tools  were  im-" 
proved,  and  necessity  demanded  workmen  in  wood,  stone 
and  metal.  Continual  work,  and  consequently  continued 
thought  on  the  best  way  to  work,  strengthened  the  mental 
organ  of  mechanism  ;  and  that  organ  in  an  active  state — has 
been  transmitted  from  one  generation  to  another,  until  now 
we  have  children  born  mechanics.  We  may  say  the  same  of 
music — we  have  children  born  musicians,  and  we  have  chil- 
dren born  honest,  and  born  rogues,  and  where  will  we  stop  ? 
This  we  call  the  laws  of  hereditary  descent — they  defy  and 
resist  education  for  a  long  time.  Take  a  child  that  is  a  born 
rogue — one  in  whom  the  organ  or  passion  to  steal  has  been 
strongly  fixed  by  inheritance,  and  it  meets  with  no  strenuous 
opposition  as  the  boy  grows  up — he  will  steal  whether  he  be 
needy  or  not.  Confine  him  in  prison  for  theft,  and  when  you 
let  him  out  he  will  steal  again.  You  might  put  him  in  a 
wake,  to  sit  up  with  the  dead,  and  he  would  steal  the  orna- 
ments from  his  grandmother's  coffin. 

An  honest  man  cannot  steal — he  don't  know  how — be- 
cause he  has  not  received  the  passion  by  inheritance  or 
instruction. 

All  of  our  knowledge  is  directed  by  mental  organ- 
ism; for  knowledge  is  the  same  thing  throughout  the 
broad  expanse  of  the  mental  world — an  animal  knows  what 
it  does  know  as  well  as  a  man.  The  brain  of  an  animal  is 
less  extensive  than  the  brain  of  a  man,  and  does  not  realize 
as  many  facts.  Attack  a  man  and  his  dog.  The  dog  will 
realize  the  fact  that  you  are  an  enemy,  as  quick  as  the  man. 
though  he  may  not  know  all  of  the  facts  in  the  case  The 
humblest  individual  in  this  house  knows  that  the  door    opens 


148  PEN    PICTURES. 

on  the  east  side  of  the  building  just  as  well  as  the  wisest- 
philosopher  in  this  assembly  knows  that  fact.  His  opportu- 
nities may  have  been  limited,  but  so  far  as  his  understanding 
has  realized  facts,  he  knows  the  truth  of  those  facts  just  as 
well  as  the  most  accomplished  and  learned  man  in  the  world. 

Our  difference  in  knowledge  is  m  quantity,  and  not  in 
quality.  Some  men  have  a  more  extensive  mental  organism 
than  others,  arising  from  inheritance,  instruction  and  oppor- 
tunity, and  may  acquire  more  knowledge — that*- is  more  in 
quantity,  but  of  no  better  quality. 

The  mental  organism  of  some  races  of  men  is  more  ex- 
tensive than  other  races.  The  teachers  of  the  negro  race  in 
this  country  will  bear  testimony  that  that  race  cannot  be 
educated,  up  to  the  Caucasian  standard  of  education.  Their 
limited  mental  organism  cannot  penetrate  the  wonderful 
avenues  that  have  been  traced  by  Caucasian  brain. 

Seeing,  hearing,  tasting,  smelling  and  feeling,  are  the 
five  senses  of  the  old  philosophers.  They  are  common  to 
animals  and  man.  They  are  all  external  and  visible  organs 
of  the  brain.  Sensation  or  feeling,  in  some  of  our  mental 
organs,  is  the  object  and  aim  of  all  humanity.  Too  many 
delight  in  the  sensation  of  appetite,  they  explore  the  kitchen 
from  the  pantry  to  the  slop-bucket  to  find  something  that 
will  stimulate  the  appetite.  Others  more  intent  after  some- 
thin^  to  stimulate  other  feelings,  can  live  a  week  on  a  sea- 
biscuit  and  a  woodpecker. 

The  internal  as  well  as  the  external  organs  of  the  brain, 
are  seen  in  animals,  as  in  man,  but  are  more  extensive  in 
man.  The  passions  always  manifest  themselves  with  the 
character  of  the  mental  organ  through  which  they  pass. 
Anger  frowns  and  stamps,  grief  wrings  its  hands,  joy  dances 
and  leaps.  Self-esteem  throws  the  body  in  an  erect,  proud 
attitude ;  combativeness  throws  the  body  of  a  man  or  animal 
in  the  attitude  of  attack.     The  dog  opens  his   mouth   aiul 


PEN    PICTURES.  140 

shows  his  teeth,  man  doubles  up  and  shows  his  fist  to  his 
adversary.  The  sens.ation  of  fear  or  cowardice  throws  the 
body  in  a  stooping,  watchful  position.  The  dog  sneaks  off 
with  his  tail  down,  and  to  use  a  slang  phrase,  man  skedadles. 

All  of  our  feelings  assume  the  character  of  the  brain  or- 
gan, through  which  they  pass,  and  manifest  themselves  ac- 
cording to  the  strength  of  that  organ.  Our  mental  organs 
become  feeble  when  left  out  of  use,  and  strong  when  culti- 
vated. Boys  who  grow  up  in  the  streets,  without  the  watch- 
ful care  of  a  faithful  mother,  learn  the  lessons  of  idleness,  and 
receive  impressions  on  the  infant  brain,  eminently  calculated 
to  produce  in  age,  a  regular  soup-house-rat. 

Boys  who  grow  up  at  home  and  in  the  schools,  get  the 
foundation  of  a  better  education ;  kind  parents  and  a  pleasant 
home,  sow  the  seed  of  patriotism  and  love  of  country.  When 
the  precious  jewels  of  the  infant  brain  are  unfolded  by  the 
delicate  touch"  of  a  faithful  mother,  the  noble  woman  has  not 
only  served  her  child,  she  has  served  her  country,  God,  and 
the  human  race. 

When  you  hear  a  man  say  he  is  not  in  favor  of  the  com- 
mon schools,  that  he  is  a  bachelor,  and  don't  take  the 
county  paper,  you  may  set  him  down  in  the  dead-book;  too 
penurious  to  educate  the  orphan ;  too  mean  to  have  a  son  of 
his  own ;  too  careless  to  read  the  events  transpiring  'round 
him;  will  give  nothing  for  the  fate  of  his  country,  or  life  of 
his  nation ;  unwilling  to  contribute  one  drop  of  oil  to  the 
light  of  the  age  in  which  he  lives — he  is  a  dead  beat. 

The  wheel  of  progress  moves  toe  slow,  yet  it  ro'ls  steadily 
on.  The  work  is  assigned  to  a  few  individuals,  who  are  in 
the  main  public  men,  giving  precept  and  example.  In  all 
ages  and  countries  they  make  mistakes.  No  stream  was  ever 
known  to  rise  above  its  fountain.  When  the  ruling  or  lead- 
ing men  of  society,  or  of  a. nation,  indulge  in  vice,  the  public 
mind  is  poisoned  at  the   fountain  and  all  the  streams  become 


150  PEN    PICTURES, 

impure.  The  numan  brain  is  stamped  with  the  love  of  imi- 
tation. Our  wise  men  look  back  for  a  precedent.  We 
measure  our  actions  by  the  laws  of  the  society  in  which  we 
live.  Individual  effort  to  rise  above  the  laws  of  society  is 
dimly  discernable.  No  wonder  virtuous  humanity  has  strug- 
gled so  long  and  so  hard. 

Some  scientific  men  have  endeavored  to  identify  man 
and  animals,  by  appealing  to  the  body.  They  have  dissect 
ed  the  brain,  counted  the  teeth  and  measured  the  bones  of 
all  the  monkeys,  under  the  false  impression  that  brain  produces 
mind.  The  Darwinian  theory  of  improvement  by  natural 
selection  as  applied  to  the  animal  kingdom,  is  founded  upon 
laborious  study  and  profound  philosophy,  but  it  applies  to 
the  body  and  not  to  the  mind.  We  have  improved  our  do- 
mestic animals  to  a  wonderful  extent,  but  that  improvement 
applies  to  the  body  and  not  to  the  mind.  If  you  want  a  wise 
hog  you  must  go  back  to  the  old  wood-rooter.  Cultivating 
the  body  does  not  always  cultivate  the  mind.  If  it  did,  the 
man  who  could  make  the  grandest  bodily  show,  would  be 
the  wisest  man  in  the  wrorld. 

In  the  third  century  of  the  Christian  era  there  lived  a 
Roman  Emperor — Maximin — of  Gothic  origin,  who  was  said 
to  be  eight  feet  high,  could  drink  seven  gallons  of  wine  and 
eat  forty  pounds  of  meat  in  a  day.  He  could  grind  up  peb- 
bles in  the  palm  of  his  hands  and  tear  up  a  small  tree  by  the 
roots.  Yet  his  mind  was  not  sufficiently  developed  to  com- 
mand the  Roman  legions,  for  he  was  murdered  in  his  tent  by 
some  of  his  own  soldiers.  The  Greeks  and  Romans  educated 
their  youth  in  physical  strength,  that  they  might  become  good 
soldiers.  Mental  education  was  little  thought  of  among  the 
ancients,  especially  the  education  of  the  masses.  We  have 
fine  institutions  of  learning,  but  we  have  too  many  book-men, 
and  too  few  original  men. 

Too  many  navel  in  the  oeaten  path  of  their  predecessors 


PEN    PICTURES  151 

and  never  stop  to  think  of  original  things.  You  must  think. 
The  tide  of  thought  flows  as  freely  as  the  atmosphere,  but 
you  don't  use  it.  You  had  as  well  try  to  realize  physical 
strength  without  action,  as  to  try  to  realize  mental  strength 
\\  ithout  thinking.  But  remember  you  had  as  well  try  to  trace 
a  bee  course  in  the  backwoods  without  eyes,  or  fly  from  the 
Black  Hills  to  the  Dead  Sea  without  wings,  as  try  to  learn  or 
realize  anything,  for  which  you  have  no  mental  capacity. 
Go  on  with  the  natural  bent  of  the  mind.  Press  forward  in 
the  direction  that  the  light  appears,  and  on,  and  on,  you  will 
go,  for  the  poet  said  : 

"  Man's  greatest  knowledge  is  himself  to  know." 

All  men  soon  become  acquainted  with  their  bodies  But 
as  I  have  already  demonstrated,  the  body  is  not  the  man, 
the  mind  is  the  mat 

I  once  knew  an  old  man  by  the  name  of  Vincen  who 
was  in  the  habit  of  getting  drunk,  as  we  say,  &nd  as  you  all 
know,  this  operation  is  performed  by  driving  the  mind  out  of 
the  brain  and  leaving  the  body  to  take  care  of  itself,  without 
the  mind  to  direct  it.  The  poor  body  is  found  wanting. 
Can't  walk  straight.  Don't  know  up  from  down.  It  is  all 
the  time  going  down,  and  all  the  time  going  up;  but  goes 
down,  more  than  it  does  up.  We  call  it  drunk.  It  is  the 
body  that  is  drunk,  not  the  mind.  The  mind  has  left  the 
body  limber  and  we  call  it  drunk. 

Old  man  Vincen  lived  in  the  country,  and  he  went  to 
town  where  he  met  with  his  brother,  who  gave  him  a  new 
coat.  After  this  event  he  met  some  drinking  friends  and 
got  drunk.  In  this  condition  his  body  started  home  in  the 
dusk  of  the  evening.  On  the  wray,  when  the  last  lingering 
spark  of  mind  had  departed,  the  question  presented  itself 
to  that  body:  Had  Vincen  started  home,  or  was  he  yet  in 
town?     The  eyes  surveyed  the  body:  the  new  coat  looked 


152  FEN    PICTURES. 

strange ,  the  lips  muttered,  this  is  not  Vincen,  Vincen  is  in 
town.  Who  can  this  be  ?  God  !  this  is  Shaw.  Shaw  was  a 
proud,  dressy  man.  The  legs  of  that  body  raised  the  feet 
high  to  walk  like  Shaw,  and  it  tumbled  into  a  mud  hole, 
where  it  lay  until  the  next  morning,  when  old  man  Vincen 
came  and  dragged  it  out. 

Oh !  how  many  drive  the  mind  away  from  them  by 
intoxication.  Oh !  how  many,  by  mental  laziness,  fail  to 
prepare  the  mental  house,  prepare  the  store-houses  of  the 
brain,  and  the  mind  or  the  man  will  come  and  dwell  in  it. 
And  let  me  say  to  all  young  men,  do  not  sit  down  and  brood 
over  the  opinion  that  you  are  no  great  man,  for  if  such  be  the 
case,  you  have  made  no  preparation  for  a  great  mind  to  come 
and  dwell  in  your  bram.  Go  to  work,  clear  away  the  rub- 
bish, forsake  all  of  your  bad  habits.  We  do  not  see  great 
men  seek  the  company  of  rowdies,  then  drive  the  rowdies, 
the  bad  habits  out  of  your  brain,  and  a  great  mind  will  come 
and  dwell  there. 

When  the  mental  element  enters,  brain  organism,  it  pro- 
duces sensation  or  feeling.  All  live  animals  have  feeling,  but 
of  very  different  character.  The  horse  has  a  sensation  ot 
hunger,  but  he  has  no  sensation  of  honor  or  honesty;  he 
will  eat  another  horse's  corn  as  quick  as  his  own. 

Then  I  ask,  what  mysterious  power  produces  all  of  the 
various  sensations,  passions  and  feelings,  that  we  observe  in 
the  animal  kingdom,  where  can  you  place  it  but  with  brain 
organism  ? 

An  animal,  through  his  brain  organs,  realizes  the  sensa- 
tions of  hunger,  thirst,  rest,  association,  love,  hatred,  ambi- 
tion and  fear,  in  common  with  man. 

Man,  through  a  superior  brain  organism,  realizes  the 
additional  sensations  cf  honor,  honesty,  happiness,  holiness, 
integrity,  industry  and  immortality. 

The  old  philosophy  of  instinct  and  reason   that  man 


PEN  PICTURES.  1^3 


learns,  and  that  animals  do  not,  is  a  mistake  that  must  be 
apparent  to  all  men  of  experience  with  animals,  who  think 
at  all.     An  animal  can  be  taught  to  the  extent  of  its  mental 
organism.     In  teaching  an  animal  we  always  appeal  to  sen- 
sation or  feeling.     We  must  appoal  to  a  mental  organ  of 
which  he  is  in  possession,  sight,  smell,  hearing,  love,   fear, 
appetite  or  any  other  mental  organ  common  to  his  species, 
in  some  of  which  he  is  superior  to  man.     Your  dog  can  tell 
you  the  course  the  rabbit  runs,  when  you  can  not  tell  by  the 
use  of  the  same  means;  because  nature  has  given  him  a  more 
refined  sensation  in   one   of  his  mental  organs— the  nose. 
Man  has  circumnavigated  the  globe,  measured  the  earth  and 
fathomed  the  sea;    has  raised  his  arm  to  the  clouds  and 
brought  down  the  lightning  to  his  use;  can  speak  to  his  fel- 
low man  across  the  ocean  and  detail  the  momentous  events 
of  the  day.     And  yet  he  is  compelled  to  sit  down  in  the 
glory  of  all  his  wisdom,  and  acknowledge  that  his  dog  knows 
some  things  that  he  does  not  know. 

The  most  accomplished  statesman  that  ever  erected  a 
legal  standard  on  the  face  of  God's  green  earth,  or  presided 
over  the  highest  and  best  appointed  institution  of  learning 
ever  organinized   among  mankind  may   learn  some  things 
from  a  poor,  forlorn,  ragged  and  wretched  beggar.   Teachirg 
is  unfolding  the  great  casket  of  nature.     No  mortal  man  has 
ever  seen  the  last  picture.     We  clean  the  dust  out  of  our 
eves  with  a  towel  and  water;  teaching  is  cleaning  the  dust 
out  of  our  mental  organs  with  the  water  of  experience;  but 
you  had  as  well  try  to  unfold  the  brilliancy  of  the  sun  to  a 
blind  man,  as  try  to  teach  a  man  or  an  animal  anything  that 
is  outside  of  his  mental  organs.       You  had  as  well  try  to 
frighten  the  man  in  the  moon  from  crossing  the  ocean  with- 
out a  canoe,  as  try  to  teach  a  man  or  an  animal  anything  for 
which  he  has  no  mental  capacity.     You  may  soon  teach  a 
dog  to  sit  by  the  fire,  because  his  feelings  soon  realize  the 


154  PEN  PICTURES. 

advantage  of  heat,  but  you  cannot  teach  him  to  mend  up 
the  fire,  because  his  limited  mental  organism  docs  not  permit 
him  to  see  cause  while  it  does  not  realize  effect:  Man  soon 
learns  to  build  up  the  fire,  but  if  you  ask  him  what  fire  is — 
he  like  the  d)g — he  can't  teli  you. 

Pliny.  Mola  and  Plutarch  speak  of  ancient  tribes  in 
Egypt,  Greece  and  Persia,  who  were  unacquainted  with  the 
use  of  fire.  Chinese  historians  acknowledge  the  same  of 
their  progenitors,  the  inhabitants  of  the  Marian  islands  dis- 
covered in  J551,  who  made  no  use  of  fire,  and  the  friction 
match  was  no!:  discovered  until  1829.  by  John  Walker.  The 
old  people  used  to  keep  the  seed  of  fire,  as  they  called  it, 
covered  up  in  the  ashes,  and  when  the  seed  was  lost,  hunt 
up  a  flint  and  strike  like  Pittsburg,  not  for  more  wages,  but 
more  fire.  Now  you  can  buy  a  bo::  of  matches  with  a  cent, 
and  set  the  city  on  fire,  like  the  strikers  at  Pittsburg ;  L  urn 
the  iron  horse;  but  if  we  ask  you  what  fire  is,  you  are  like  the 
dog,  you  can't  tell.  Fire  is  an  old  friend  as  well  as  an  enemy. 
We  have  known  it  always,  but  we  only  know  its  name.  We 
know  that  is  a  principle  or  element  pervading  the  universe. 
More  than  this  we  do  not  know,  because  our  limited  mental 
organism  does  not  permit  us  to  penetrate  the  secret  chambers 
of  the  universe  of  God. 

One  more  lecture  and  we  part.  Friends  are  parting 
throughout  our  beautiful  land.  Friends  live  forever,  and 
love  forever,  but  they  do  not  part  forever.  They  part  like  a 
city  and  the  sun,  to  meet  again  in  a  little  while.  You  and  I 
part  at  death,  and  what  is  our  life?  One  line  in  the  great 
book  of  history;  one  grain  in  the  sands  of  time;  one  drop 
in  the  ocean  of  humanity,  and  adieu  to  the  scene  we  cali 
life.  We  part  in  trouble;  we  meet  in  peace,  we  part  in  a 
world  of  sin  and  sorrow;  we  meet  in  a  world  of  purity  and 
peace;  we  part  in  tenements  of  clay;  we  meet  in  tenements 
immortalized.  This  closes  our  lecture  on  man  and  animals.  Our 


PEN    PICTURES.  155 

next  ecture  is  on  spirit  and  soul,  in  which  we  will  speak  of 
the  mental  organ  we  term  the  organ  of  progress. 

More  intricate  than  the  broad  expanse  of  the  universe, 
The  hidden  friend  and  wonderful  counselor  of  all  nations  of  men 
That  has  ever  been  as  true  to  the  barbarous  as  to  civilized  man  ; 
That  has  stood  over  the  dusky  woman  of  ancient  times, 

and  hovers  'round  the  accomplished  mother  of  our  civiliza- 
tion,  when  she  lays  the  darling  of  her  bosom  beneath  the 
dark,  green  sod,  and  will  ever  stand  over  the  last  lingering 
spark  of  humanity,  until  the  sun  of  hope  darkens  and  dis- 
appears from  the  heaven  of  anticipations. 


LECTURE  V.— SPIRIT  AND  SOUL. 

Brutus  will  start  a.  spirit  as  soon  as  Caesar.—  Shakspeare. 

In  our  previous  lectures  we  endeavored  to  look  at  nature 
in  a  natural  way.  The  present  subject  seems  to  demand  that 
we  should  depart,  at  least  in  some  degree,  from  the  great 
cardinal  principles  laid  down  by  the  laws  of  nature,  yet  we 
do  not  propose  to  travel  on  the  out-side  track.  True  to  our 
nature  and  to  the  laws  that  govern  the  universe,  we  will 
travel  upon  that  road  as  long  as  there  is  a  foot  of 
ground  beneath  our  feet,  and  when  the  last  grain  of  sand  has 
sunk  from  our  pathway,  make  one  long  leap  for  the  eternal 
shore. 

In  the  language  of  St.  Paul — "If  we  have  hope  only  in 
this  life,  we  are  of  all  men  most  miserable." 

The  errors  of  our  fathers  are  left  behind  in  the  back- 
woods. We  have  thrown  the  old  stage  coach  away,  and 
pass  from  city  to  city  on  a  palace  car ;  but  we  have  not 
thrown  away  the  principle.  We  have  improved  the  roads, 
magnified  the  motive  power,  and  enlarged  the  coach,  but  we 
still  travel  upon  wheels. 

Many  great  minds  of  the  age  have  thrown  away  the  phi- 
losophy of  primitive  Judaism,  but  there  is  a  principle  m 
human  nature  that  they  cannot  throw  away  without  throwing 
themselves  away,  for  it  was  planted  by  that  great  eternal 
hand  who  laid  the  foundations  of  the  universe,  and  appointee 
a  place  for  the  earth. 


PEN    PICTURES.  ID, 

In  the  early  dawn  of  the  historic  period  Jacob  journeyed 
toward  Haran,  and  slept  under  a  tree,  with  the  grass  for  a 
bed  and  a  stone  for  a  pillow.  He  dreamed  that  he  saw  a 
ladder  reaching  from  Earth  to  Heaven,  This  is  the  second 
dream.recorded  in  Jewish  history.  No  one  will  contend  that 
Jacob  saw  a  material  ladder.  Thatiladder  was  seen  by  the 
mind's  eye,  or  by  the  great^  power  01  the  imagination;  and, 
although  it  was  not  a  true  ladder,  it  did  represent  a  true 
principle. 

The  imagination  is  a  principle  in  mental  organism  com- 
mon to  all  men.  It  is  no  true  philosophy  to  claim  it  for  any 
profession  or  class  or  men  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  It 
is  the  foundation  upon  which  all  of  the  castles  of  supersti- 
tion known  to  the  human  race  have  been  erected.  No  man 
builds  a  house  without  a  foundation,  and  any  philosophy  not 
founded  upon  some  of  the  cardinal  principles  of  nature,  is 
nothing  but  a  castle  in  the  air. 

If  any  man  will  show  me  how  the  human  understanding 
can  be  approached,  out-side  of  the  natural  senses  common 
to  all  men,  by  any  other  avenue  than  that  of  imagination,  I 
will  never  open  my  mouth  again  on  the  subject  of  mental 
philosophy.  When  a  man  has  long  dissipated  he  sometimes 
sees  snakes  in  his  boots.  Now  we  all  know  that  the  snakes 
are  false,  but  the  principle  is  not  false.  The  sight  of  the 
snakes  is  a  picture,  representing  the  road  of  ruin  and  dissipa- 
tion upon  which  the  mind  is  traveling.  The  power  of  the 
mind  called  imagination  underlies  all  human  progress.  It 
represents  genius  and  forecast  as  well  as  spirit  and  soul.  A 
steam  engine  would  have  run  as  well  two  thousand  years  ago 
as  it  does  to-day,  and  the  magnetic  telegraph  would  have 
conveyed  language  across  the  ocean  on  the  day  that  Colum- 
bus discovered  America,  just  as  well  and  upon  the  same 
principles  that  it  does  to-day.  But  those  pinciples  in  nature 
slumbered  beneath  a  dark  cloud  of  ignorance  for  acres. 


158  PEN    PICTURES. 

The  question  naturally  presents  itself  to  us:  by  what 
means  do  we  penetrate  the  dark  recesses  of  the  universe  and 
unfold  the  secret  nerves  of  nature  so  useful  to  man?  Let  the 
man  of  genius  answer,  and  he  will  tell  ycu  before  he  made 
any  new  thing,  he  saw  its  picture  with  the  mind's  eye,  or  by 
the  great  power  of  imagination.  And  thus  through  the  long 
ages  of  the  historic  period  that  great  power  of  the  mind,  the 
imagination,  has  been  unfolding  the  beauties  of  nature,  and 
man  can  say  that  we  have  approached  the  end  of  the 
chapter,  or  even  the  middle  of  the  casket. 

Could  the  wisest  philosopher  of  the  age  sleep  a  thousand 
years  and  reappear  upon  the  stage  of  action,  he  would  be  lost 
in  wonder,  and  look  upon  the  age  in  which  we  live  as  an  age 
of  semi-barbarism. 

On  the  sixth  day  of  October,  1829,  George  Stephenson, 
a  coal  miner  of  Northumberland,  England,  having  construct- 
ed the  Rocket,  the  first  locomotive  engine  ever  seen  in  the 
world,  run  it  from  Manchester  to  Liverpool  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  males  an  hour.     All  practical  mechanics  in  the  country, 
while  Stephenson  was  at  work,  condemned  the  experime:; 
and  pronounced  it  a  failure.     George    Stephenson  saw  the 
picture  of  the  Rocket  by  the  power  of  his  imagination  before 
he  made  the  engine,  for  no  man  can  work  in  the  dark.     At 
this  period  the  great  Henry  Clay  was  wasting  his  eloqence  in 
Congress,  in  favor  of  the  Cumberland  turnpike  road.      Mr. 
'Clay  was  a  great  orator,  but  he  was  no  mechanic.     Hence 
we  see  the  dusty  coal  miner  coming  forward  with  an  argu- 
ment more  potent  than  all  the  oratory  in  the  world. 

I  do  not  ccntend  that  every  \  picture  presented  to  the 
imagination  can  be  worked  out.  There  must  necessarily  be 
failures  among  all  men  and  among  all  classes. 

All  Pible  readers  are  familar  with  the  book  of  Daniel. 
Daniel  saw  four  beasts  rise  up  out  of  the  sea,  and  the  fourth 
beast  was  diverse  from  the  rest     He  had  great  iron  teeth  and 


PEN    PICTURES. 


ten  horn?,  and  soon  there  came  up  among  them  another  little 
horn  that  had  eyes.  No  one  will  contend  that  Daniel  saw  any 
beast  m  reality;  he  saw  a  picture  by  the  great  power  oi 
imagination,  which  he  said  was  a  picture  of  a  revolution  in 
governments.  Daniel  was  a  prisoner  in  Babylon,  and  his 
mind  glowed  with  unabating  tenacity  for  a  return  to  his 
native  land.  Learned  clergymen  have  been  trying  to  work 
out  Daniel's  pictures  for  more  than  two  thousand  years.  The 
angel  Gabriel,  so  often  mentioned  by  subsequent  writers, 
whom  they  have  commissioned  to  sound  the  last  horn,  is  one 
of  DanieFs  pictures.  Daniel  is  the  first  writer  who  mentions 
the  name  of  the  angel  Gabriel,  which  you  may  see  by  con- 
sulting the  book  of  Daniel,  viii.  15.  It  is  said  that  Daniel's 
book  was  shown  to  Alexander  the  Great,  and^.he  supposed 
that  he  saw  his  own  image  in  one  of  Daniel's  pictures,  and 
for  this  cause  treated  the  Jews  with  great  lenity. 

The  old  Jews  taught  their  descendants  that  some  animals 
were  unclean,  and  their  laws  forbade  the  use  of  them.  All 
historians  know  with  what  great  "respect  the  Jews  regarded 
their  laws.  We  read  in  the  Christian  Scriptures  that  Peter, 
when  he  dwelt  at  Joppa,  with  Simon,  a  tanner,  by  the  sea 
side,  saw  a  great  sheet,  held  at  four  corners,  and  let  down 
from  heaven :  this  sheet  was  full  of  all  manner  of  beasts,  and 
he  heard  a  voice  saying,  "Arise,  Peter,  kill  and  eat."  No  one 
believes  that  Peter  saw  a  real  sheet  full  of  real  animals. 
Peter  saw  a  picture,  by  the  great  power  of  imagination,  from 
which  he  concluded  that  the  God  of  the  Jews  was  also  the 
God  of  the  Romans,  for  he  soon  after  baptized  Cornelius, 
who  was  a  Roman.  We  know  that  the  question  prevailed  at 
that  time  among  some  of  the  early  Christians,  whether  or  not 
their  faith  extended  outside  of  the  Jewish  nation. 

St.  John  said:  "I  stood  upon  the  sand  of  the  sea  and 
saw  a  beast  rise  up  out  of  the  sea  having  seven  heads  and  ten 
horns.'*     No  one  believes   that   any  such  beast  ever  had  an 


ICO  PEN    PICTURES. 

existence  in  the  universe.  St.  John  saw  a  picture  by  the 
great  power  of  his  imagination.  Many  have  wondered  at  the 
similaritv  between  the  visions  of  Daniel  and  St.  John.  Daniel 
lived  700  years  before  St.  John,  and  Alexander  the  Great, 
who  lived  300  years  before  St.  John,  supposed  that  he  saw 
himself  in  one  of  Daniel's  pictures.  Some  of  the  clergymen 
of  our  day  are  engaged  in  working  out  those  pictures.  They 
are  like  the  boy  who  went  out  to  learn  French  when  he  did 
not  understand  his  mother  tongue. 

Mind  operates  upon  or  through  brain  organism,  and  all 
of  these  old  men,  who  have  long  since  passed  away  and  gone 
to  their  reward,  were  mentally  organized  precisely  like  men 
are  to-day.  When  thought  has  long  impressed  any  of  the 
mental  organs  the  imagination  extends  in  the  direction  of 
that  organ. 

Mahomet  went  into  a  cave  and  secluded  himself,  while 
his  imagination  traversed  the  regions  of  heaven,  astraddle  of 
a  white  mule.  A  mechanic  may  train  his  thoughts  upon  the 
subject  of  invention  until  they  travel,  seemingly,  out  side  of 
h:s  brain,  and  he  beholds  wonderful  associations  of  machin- 
ery— he  is  in  the  broad  field  of  imagination  where  every 
shape  and  form  appears.  This  great  power  of  the  human 
brain  is  common  to  all  men.  One  class  of  men  reveal  the 
beauties  of  heaven,  another  class  reveal  the  beauties  of  earth. 
We  call  them  the  men  cf  pr:grcss. 

A  word  is  the  sign  or  garment  of  an  idea.  Living 
languages  are  progressive.  No  language  has  ever  lived  a 
thousand  years.  Could  the  subjects  of  Alfred  the  Great  re- 
appear in  England  they  would  not  understand  the  English 
language  as  it  is  spoken  to-day.  Much  difficulty  sometimes 
arises  from  the  want  of  a  proper  understanding  of  the  words 
we  speak.  I  hold  my  hand  here,  and  move  it  there.  My 
hand  is  a  thing  and  will  perish,  the  change  of  its  position  is  a 
principle  and  will  not  parish;  thus  you  will  understand  what 


PEN    PICTURES.  lfil 

I  mean  by  the  words  things  of  nature  ana  principles  of  nature. 

I  come  now  to  speak  of  the  word  spirit,  and  will  en- 
deavor and  do  so  in  a  spirit  of  meekness. 

The  word  spirit  occurs  in  the  Scriptures  about  324  times, 
and  is  generally  used  to  designate  a  principle,  and  not  a 
thing.  The  word  angel  is  often  used  in  the  Scriptures,  and 
designates  a  body  or  thing.  The  word  soul  occurs  in  the 
Scriptures  about  220  times.  It  is  often  used  to  designate  a 
number  or  individual — eight  souls,  or  eight  persons,  crossed 
over  the  flood  in  Noah's  ark.  We  conclude,  therefore,  that 
the  word  spirit,  as  we  should  understand  it,  designates  a 
principle  or  a  picture,  and  not  a  body  or  thing.  When  a 
whole  nation  are  of  one  opinion  with  regard  to  anything,  we 
call  that  principle  the  spirit  of  the  age,  or  of  the  nation.  We 
say,  the  common  schools  are  upheld  by  the  spirit  of  the  age. 

I  know  that  a  great  many  persons  individualize  spirits, 
and  think  they  have  seen  them.  It  is  said  Martin  Luther 
once  threw  his  ink-stand  at  the  devil,  and  the  ink-stand  went 
through  the  devil,  and  hit  the  wall  of  his  room.  He  threw 
his  ink -stand  at  a  picture;  that  picture  was  false,  but  it  did 
represent  a  principle.  The  old  man  was  worried  with  his 
enemies  and  saw  their  picture,  to  which  his  imagination  gave 
the  shape  of  the  devil. 

There  are  many  persons  who  believe  in  what  they  call 
"the  operation  of  the  Spirit."  This  philosophy  in  one  sense 
is  true.  When  a  number  of  individuals^  all  meet  together, 
having  concentrated  their  thoughts  -upon  devotion  by  a  law 
of  nature,  impressions  long  continued  UDon  a  mental  organ 
will  carry  the  mind  in  th#t  direction,  and  "sometimes'  it  will 
pass  out  into  the  broad  field  of  imagination.  The  operation 
of  the  Spirit  must  be  upon  or  through  mental  organism.  If 
the  impressions  are  made  upon  the  good  organs  of  the  brain 
the  spirit  will  be  good.     And  if  the  impressions   are   made 


11 


162  PEN    PICTURES. 

upon  the  bad  organs  of  the  brain  the  manifestations  will  be 
that  of  a  bad  spirit. 

The  Pharisees,  a  religious  sect  among  the  Jews,  who 
flourished  immediately  before  the  Christian  era,  taught  the 
philosophy  of  the  existence  of  a  spirit,  or  soul,  in  man,  dis- 
connected and  separate  from  the  Lody  or  mind,  and  of  course 
must  be  deaf  and  dumb,  incognito  and  foolish,  this  is  the 
darkest  picture  of  all  of  the  dark  ages.  The  word  spirit  should 
always  be  applied  to  the  mind,  and  never  to,  the  body. 
Wherever  we  find  mind  we  find  spirit.  We  never  say  the 
spirit  of  a  tree,  but  we  do  say,  a  dull  and  high-spirited  horse, 
and  a  dull  and  high-spirited  man. '  When  one  is  dead  we  say 
his  spirit  is  gone,  or  has  left  the  bodyv  It  is  a  clumsy  philoso- 
phy to  apply  a  material  body  to  the 'existence  of  spirit.  What 
can  the  Christian  say  who  believes  in  the  resurrection  of  the 
body?  Will  he  not,  when  the  spirit  body  and  the  human 
body  meet,  cry  out:  "O,  wretched  spirit  that  I  am,  who 
shall  deliver  me  from  these  material  bodies  ?"  When  the  mind 
is  gone  the  spirit  goes  with  it,  and  when  the  mind  returns  the 
spirit  returns  with  it.  A'  spirit  separated  from  the  mind  is  the 
ghost  of  superstition ;  was  born  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  field 
of  fear,  with  reversed  eyes — can  see  in  the  night,  but  sleeps 
in  the  day ;  fed  on  credulity,  lived  through  the  dark  ages,  and 
may  yet  be  seen  in  dark  places  through  the  dark  glasses  of 
modern  spiritualism.  When  the  last  dark  corner  of  the  hu- 
man brain  becomes  illuminated  it  will  bid  adieu  to  the  earth 
forever. 

The  meek  and  lowly  Jesus,"  the  great  moral  Teacher 
whose  standard  of  morality  is  truly  the  best  the  world  ever 
saw,  He  who  spake  as  never  man  spake,  used  the  word  spirit 
only  eleven  times.  Those  who  wrote  his  history  used  it  a  great 
many  more  times.  Jesus  used  it  eleven  times,  that  is  record- 
ed in  the  Scriptures.  He  used  it  always  in  the  same,  or  near- 
ly the  same  sense.     The  first  time  he  used  it  was  in  the  ser- 


PEN  PICTURES.  163 

mon  on  the  mount.  He  said,  "Blessed  are  the  poor  in 
spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  The  last  time 
he  used  it  was  on  the  cross,  when  the  last  mortal  wound  had. 
been  inflicted.  He  said,  "  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend 
my  spirit." 

No.  I  am  mistaken.  He  used  it  once  after  this.  You 
will  find  it  in  the  last  chapter  of  Luke,  commencing  at  the 
36th  verse. 

His  scholars,  the  apostles,  were  all  together  in  a  certain 
place,  soon  after  the  crucifixion,  holding  a  council  on  the 
perils  of  the  times.  The  Master  had  been  executed,  no  one 
could  tell  the  fate  of  his  followers;  they  were  all  afraid  of  the 
multitude  and  of  public  authority.  The  spirit  of  persecution 
was  abroad  in  the  land.  The  germ  of  Christianity  was  in 
that  little  council,  and  of  this  meeting  the  text  reads :  "And 
as  they  spake  Jesus  himself  stood  in  the  midst  of  them  and 
saith  'unto  them,  '  Peace  be  unto  you ,'  but  they  were  terri- 
fied and  affrighted,  and  supposed  they  had  seen  a  spirit,  and 
he  said  unto  them,  'Why  are  ye  troubled  and  why  do 
thoughts  arise  in  your  hearts  ?  Behold  my  hands  and  my 
feet,  that  it  is  I  myself,  handle  me  and  see,  for  a  spirit  hath 
not  flesh  and  bones,  as  you  see  me  have,'  and  for  further 
proof  he  did  eat  before  them." 

The  idea  of  a  material  spirit  originated  with  the  Phari- 
sees. The  early  Christian  writers  founded  their  philosophy 
on  the  resurrection  of  the  human  body,  and  this  is  not  in  con- 
flict with  the  true  philosophy  of  spirit.  There  is  nothing  in 
the  wide  world,  so  dear  to  a  Christian,  as  a  Christian's  hope. 
The  man  who  would  wantonly  disfigure  a  Christian's  hope, 
would  steal  the  family  casket  of  his  grandmother,  and  dis- 
figure the  fair  faces  of  those  who  gave  him  being.  The  sum 
of  that  hope  is  in  the  resurrection  of  the  human  body;  the  in- 
fant form,  the  darling  body,  that  has  been  laid  beneath  the 


164  .PEN    PICTURES. 

green  carpet  to  sleep,  shall  be  restored  again,  to  the  bosom 
of  its  mother,  in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead. 

St.  Paul  said,  when  speaking*  of  the  Christian's  hope,  in 
the  eighth  chapter  of  Romans  :  (i'We  groan  within  ourselves, 
waiting  for  the  adoption,  to  wit :  the  resurrection  of  our 
body.'  Josephus,  the  learned  historian  of  the  Jews,  in  ex- 
pounding the  laws  of  Moses,  uses  this  language  :  "  Gcd  hath 
made  this  grant,  to  those  who  observe  these  laws,  even  though 
they  be  obliged  to  die  for  them,  that  they  shall  come  into  be- 
ing again,  and  at  a  certain  revolution  of  things  receive  a  bet- 
ter life,  than  they  had  enjoyed  before. 

Infidelity,  the  love  of  the  marvelous,  and  the  hope  of 
gain,  are  the  nest  eggs  of  modern  disembodied  spirits.  The 
broad  and  open  field  of  imagination  is  where  the  nest  was 
found.  Andrew  Jackson  Davis  sat  on  the  eggs.  This  great 
apostle  of  clairvoyance,  Som-nam-bu-lisrii,  som-nil-o-quence, 
and  all  other  sleeping  beauties  of  the  brain,  says  on  the 
twenty-first  page  of  his  work,  entitled,  The  Principles  of  Na- 
ture'. "  Seven  times  I  have  been  requested  to  explain  the  na 
ture  and  composition  of  spirit."  Then  after  making  some  re- 
marks on  the  different  characters  of  men,  he  continues;  "  Fol- 
low me  through  thistinvestigation,  and  then  decide  according 
to  the  evidence  you  receive,  for,  or  against  the  conclusions 
arrived  at."  This  modest  request  of  Mr.  Davis©vas  to  fol- 
low him  through  782  pages.  I  followed  him,  and  can  best  give 
you  my  experience  by  relating  an  anecdote. 

"  During  the  early  settlement  of  Kentucky,  in  the  infant 
age  of  the  dark  and  bloody  ground,  when  our  great-grandfa- 
thers and  great-grandmothers  were  rocked  in  a  sugar  trough 
and  the  children  played  around  the  log-cabin,  whicn  was  adorn- 
ed with  turkey-wings  and  buck  horns,  an  early  settler  cleared 
off  five  acres  of  ground,  around  which  he  made  a  new  rail 
fence,  so  close  that  a  rabbit  could  not  crawl  through  it.  He 
planted  it  in  corn,  and  in  the  early  fall  while  walking  'round 


PEN    PICTURES.  165 

his  field,  discovered  that  hogs  had  been  destroying  the  crop. 
He  examined  every  panel  of  the  fence,  to  find  where  the  brute 
had  entered  the  field.  There  was  a  ravine  or  natural  ditch 
through  the  field,  and  when  building  the  fence  across  this 
ravine,  a  hollow  linn  log  was  thrown  in,  to  partly  fill  up  the 
d'tch,  and  the  fence  was  placed  upon  it.  Our  farmer  had  a 
neighbor,  who  owned  a  spotted  shoat,  and  if  there  is  a  wise 
hog  in  the  world,  you  will  always  find  him  in  the  shape  of  a 
spotted  shoat.  This  fellow  had  crawled  through  the  linn  log 
and  torn  down  four  times  as  much  corn  as  twenty  hogs  could 
eat,  and  contrary  to  hog  nature,  had  crawled  out  through  the 
same  hole  that  he  crawled  in.  When  our  farmer  discovered  the 
trick,  he  pulled  the  fence  down  off  the  log  and  endeavored  to 
remove  it,  it  was  a  crooked  log — like  my  elbow — and  the  man 
succeeded  in  getting  both  ends  of  the  log  on  the  outside  of  the 
field  and  replaced  the  fence  upon  it.  He  then  left  the  field, 
directing  his  attention  to  the  spotted  shoat.  When  the  ani- 
mal supposed  the  coast  was  clear,  he  cautiously  approached 
the  right  end  of  the  log  and  crawled  through,  coming  out  on 
the  same  side  of  the  fence,  when  he  raised  his  bristles  and 
trotted  off.     Hemever  went  back  to  that  field. 

With  the  diligence  of  a  hopeful  student  I  waded  through 
782  pages  of  Mr.  Davis'  work,  and  like  the  spotted  shoat, 
came  out  on  the  same  side  of  the  fence. 

I  spoke  in  my  lecture  on  Time  and  Motion,  of  a  great 
castle,  in  which  allusion  was  made  to  the  future  state  of  man. 
This  picture  has  existed  among  all  nations  of  men. 

"  The  soul  uneasy  and  confined  from  home — 
Rests,  and  expatiates  in  a  life  to  come." 

Mr.  Davis  proclaimed,  that  this  castle  was  accessible,  and 
beckoned  his  hearers  to  follow  him.  I  followed  him  seven- 
hundred  and  eighty-two  miles  through  the  brush,  it  is  true 
there  was  an  occasional  wild  flower  along  the  path-way.     The 


166  PEN    PICTURES. 

journey  was  tedious  and  wearisome,  at  last  the  wall  of  the 
castle  appeared  in  the  distance,  I  struggled  up  to  the  door, 
Mr.  Davis  opened  it,  and  I  passed  through,  only  to  find  my- 
self in  the  woods  on  the  other  side.  And  Davis  at  last  is 
compelled  to  come  to  the  cold  naked  truth,  and  acknowledge 
that  the  interior  of  the  castle  is  invisible  until  you  go  to  sleep. 
He  ought  to  be  called,  the  sleeping  beauty  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

The  definition  of  the  word  medium,  is  to  stand  in  or 
about  the  middle.  If  an  orator  offering  to  address  you,  stand- 
ing at  so  great  a  distance  you  could  not  hear  him,  and  I 
stood  in  the  middle — between  you — repeating  what  he  said,  I 
would  be  a  medium.  Thus  the  spiritual  medium,  standing 
on  the  brink  of  the  dark  river,  scanning  the  distant  shores, 
sees,  or  thinks  he  sees,  the  golden  edge  of  the  new-born  day, 
and  with  a  cheek  that  knows  no  shame,  reveals  to  credulous 
ears  the  mysteries  of  the  spirit  land.  There  have  been  me- 
diums in  all  ages  of  the  world.  The  late  revival  of  spiritual 
mediums  in  this  country,  is  eminently  calculated  to  start  civil- 
ization on  the  back  track. 

What  is  a  medium  ?  Let  us  dissect  him.  He  is  nothing 
but  a  bundle  of  poor  humanity,  feeds  on  the  same  food, 
breathes  the  same  air  and  is  animated  by  the  same  elements 
that  animate  all  men.  Has  he  not  arms,  and  legs,  a  face, 
and  a  brain?  In  what  is  he  different  from  other  men?  In 
nothing,  but  wearing  a  cheek  that  knows  no  shame. 

Let  us  teach  man  the  power  of  his  own  mental  faculties, 
let  him  hear  the  voice  of  freedom  it  will  elevate  him  above 
the  power  of  principalities — and  devils.  The  beauties  of  na- 
ture, the  flowers  of  reason,  the  roses  of  happiness  lie  in  reck- 
less profusion  along  his  path-way,  he  must  gather  them  with 
his  own  hands.  "  Let  me  pluck  them  for  you,"  is  the  voice 
of  slavery.  When  you  meet  sin  and  sorrow  make  no  appeal 
to  community,   community  is  as  destitute  of  mercy,   as  the 


PEN    PICTURES.  167 

waves  of  the  sea  to  a  sinking  ship.  If  you  would  ride  boldly 
over  the  waves  of  tiouble,  you  must  paddle  your  own  canoe. 
Every  man  thinks,  or  should  think  for  himself.  The  tide  of 
thought  flows  as  freely  as  a  river  of  water,  it  is  the  water  of 
life,  springing  up  to  every  man's  brain.  Oh  !  how  bitter  it  is 
sometimes  made  from  another's  cup. 

The  life  of  tke  body  is  a  forced  state,  a  state  of  worry, 
of  care  and  oft  of  sorrow  and  of  weeping. 

The  life  of  the  spirit  comes  a  volunteer.  We  have  al- 
ready demonstrated  life  to  be  a  development  that  belongs  to 
the  vegetable  as  well  as  the  animal  kingdom.  The  life  of 
the  spirit  is  a  mental  power  eternal  in  itself  pervading  the 
universe. 

The  principles  of  nature  are  eternal.  The  power  ot  the 
steam  engine  is  a  principle — the  steam  is  a  thing,  the  power 
a  principle. 

Honor  arises  from  action,  yet  honor  is  a  principle.  One 
may  have  the  external  appearance  of  a  gentleman,  but  if  we 
find  that  he  lacks  the  principle  of  honor  we  discard  him. 
The  things  of  nature  perish  or  change  form,  the  principles  of 
failure  are  eternal. 

The  rocks  we  dig  out  of  the  mountain  bear  indisputable 
evidence  that  they  once  existed  in  another  form. 

The  animals  exist  in  the  vegetable  kingdom,  and  are  de- 
veloped into  bodies  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  perish  or  change 
form.  "  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  thou  shalt  return," 
alludes  alone  to  the  body.  The  spirit  never  was  and  never 
can  be  dust. 

Smoke  rises  up  because  it  is  lighter  than  the  air;  it  acted 
the  same  way  when  the  first  fire  was  kindled  upon  the  earth, 

I  speak  to  you  to-day.  My  body  will  perish  and  return 
to  dust  after  it  has  moldered  beneath  the  sod  for  2,000 
ages.  The  same  ideas  may  be  advanced  by  another  man, 
without  any  knowledge  of  me  or  of  my  record.      The  bodies 


168  PEN    PICTURES. 

of  men  and  their  language  perish ;  but  ideas  do  not  perish, 
because  mind  is  an  eternal  principle  pervading  the  universe. 
Spirit  is  the  flower  of  the  mind.  Who  would  have  a  foolish 
spirit?  We  come  now  to  speak  of  the  presence  of  the  spirit 
in  the  mind  for  no  philosopher  can  find  spirit  in  anything  else. 
You  see  with  both  eyes  alike  because  you  use  both  alike.  Put 
a  bandage  over  one  for  a  week  and  you  will  not  be  able  to  see 
with  it  at  all  for  a  time.  What  is  true  of  the  eye  is  also  true 
of  the  other  mental  organs.  Put  a  bandage  over  your  evil 
organs  and  the  devil  will  not  enter.  Close  the  door  against 
him  and  he  will  go  away. 

But,  says  one,  I  would  do  good  but  evil  is  present  with 
me.  It  is  hard  to  rid  the  mind  of  that  old  serpent — the 
Tempter. 

This  reminds  me  of  the  Arkansas  doubter.  There  lived 
a  man  in  the  State  of  Arkansas  whom  all  his  neighbors  called 
the  doubter.  He  doubted  everything,  doubted  the  existence 
of  the  man  in  the  moon.  Some  said  that  he  doubted  public 
opinion. 

A  traveler  met  the  doubter  in  the  road,  and  addressing 
him  said  : 

"  Sir,  can  you  tell  me  where  John  Smith  lives  ?" 

The  doubter,  looked  serious,  replied  "  Do  you  see  this 
bayou?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  this  bayou  runs  west  about  three  miles  and  then 
turns  and  runs  south;  right  at  the  turn  of  the  bayou  there 
is  a  bridge ;  cross  that  bridge  and  you  strike  a  high  plain 
sloping  gradually  to  the  west;  the  road  runs  across  that  plain 
in  a  west  direction ;  there  are  houses  on  each  side  cf  the  road; 
John  Smith  may  live  ino  ne  of  these  houses,  but  I  doubt  it  ' 

"  I  was  not  asking  for  your  doubts,  I  want  information." 

"Well  cross  this  plain  in  a  west  direction  and  you  come 
to  a  large  canebrake;  pa?s  through  this  e-nebrake  and  you 


PEN  PICTURES.  169 

strike  a  group  of  low  flat  hills,  thickly  settled ;  John  Smith 
*  may  live  there,  but  I  doubt  it.     They  say  that  John  Smith 
lives  in  all  neighborhoods ;  strike  any  settlement,  and  by  dili- 
gent* inquiry  you  can  find  John  Smith, -but  I  doubt  it  " 

"Go  to  the  devil  with  your  doubts,"  said  the  man,  and 
.  started  on. 

"Hold  on,  stranger,  I  can  tell  you  where  John  Smith 
does  live.  He  lives  in  his  own  house,  and  if  you  can  find 
that  house,  you  will  find  where  John  Smith  lives." 

I  am  like  the  Arkansas  doubter.  You  may  go  to  church 
in  search  of  a  good  spirit  and  you  may  find  it  there,  but  I 
doubt  it.  You  may  unfold  the  pages  of  ancient  history  in 
search  of  a  good  spirit,  and  you  may  find  it  there,  but  I 
doubt  it.  Hold,  reader,  I  can  tell  you  where  you  can  find 
it — in  its  own  house.  Clear  the  rubbish  out  of  your  own 
brain  ;  quit- all  of  your  bad  conduct;  prepare  the  residence 
for  a  good  spirit,  and  it  will  come  and  dwell  with  you. 

But,  says  one,  morality  is  dead  without  religion.  With 
profound  regard  for  the  religious  schools  of  the  day,  I  criti- 
cise this  declaration.  Morality  comes  strictly  within  the  pale 
of  mental  philosophy,  because  it  is  the  result  of  mental  or- 
ganism. The  ancient  definition  of  the  word  religion  was  to 
bind  together.  Our  country  and  all  other  countries  are  full  of 
churches  and  clergymen.  They  all  teach  religion.  They  all 
bind  their  own  people  together  and  leave  humanity  as  wide 
apart  as  the  poles.  Morality  is  as  broad  as  the  earth,  and 
beautiful  as  the  unfolded  heavens.  The  majestic  idea  of  the 
word  can  march  through  the  church  and  the  state  house ;  can 
enter  the  dark  prison  and  comfort  the  lowly  and  down-trod- 
den ;  can  travel  without  a  passport  among  all  nations,  and 
through  all  countries ;  can  be  spoken  in  every  language  and 
treasured  in  every  heart.  I  would  like  to  see  all  men  every- 
where religious  \  but  religion  without  morality  is  like  a  bird 
sitting   on   marbles — marbles   never   hatch.     Associations   cf 


170  PEN    PICTURES 

rner-  who  have  bound  themselves  together  and  claim  exclu-# 
sive  jurisdiction  uver  the  great  spirit  should  not  crjdfy  mo- 
rality   It  comes  like  ihe  amid  teacher  who  appeared  in  Pales- 
tine io  strengthen  the  weak  and  bind  up  the  broken-hearted. 

When  1  hear  a  man  say  that  morality  is  dead  without  re- 
ligion 1  think  of  that  mild  passage  in  the  history  of  Jesus 
when  his  apostles  came  to  him  and  said,  "Master,  we  saw 
one  casting  out  devils  in  thy  name  who  did  not  follow  us  and 
we  forbade  him." 

I  think  of  the  old  Jews  who  supposed  themselves  in  pos- 
session of  all  the  genuine  religion  that  was  in  the  world,  when 
justice  would  nave  released  Jesus.  They  cried  aloud  to  Pon- 
tius Pilate,  "crucify  him  !  crucify  him  !  let  his  blood  be  upon 
us  and  upon  our  children."  Individuality  crucified  morality. 

Individuality  is  the  rock  upon  which  all  theologians  split. 
It  has  scattered  the  Christian  church  into  more  than  6co  de- 
nominations, and  throughout  the  globe  the  future  state  has 
been  fitted  to  the  human  passions.  Who  can  individualize 
the  mind?  a  bundle  of  passions,  desires,  hopes  and  fears. 
Who  can  individualize  spirit  ?  We  hope  to  meet  our  friends 
in  the  spirit  land,  but  we  do  not  hope  to  meet  all  of  their 
individual  passions.  When  we  see  outside  of  individuality 
we  will  be  no  longer  individuals. 

«  While  man  lives  upon  the  earth  he  has  a  local  habitation 
and  a  name.  When  he  crosses  the  dark  river  he  is  borne 
away  on  the  wide  wings  of  hope  through  the  stars  and  space. 
Deo  favente  ad  infinitum. 

Individuality  is  human  and  peculiar  to  humanity,  in 
proof  of  which  I  appeal  to  the  history  of  the  old  Jewish 
prophets.  All  will  agree  that  they  were  animated  by  the 
same  spirit,  yet  we  find  as  much  difference  between  them  as 
we  find  in  any  other  class  of  men.  Some  of  them  dwelt 
upon  the  sublime  and  beautiful  others  spoke  continually  of 
weeping  and  sorrow. 


PEN    PICTURES.  171 

And  the  clergymen  of  our  day  speak  according  to  their 
mental  organism.  Some  of  them  are  a  hard-hearted  race  of 
men,  for  they  speak  continually  of  future  torments.  Others, 
more  congenial,  speak  of  the  beauties  of  the  universe  and 
incomprehensible  works  of  God.  Some  lead  their  congrega- 
tions with  a  golden  cord  of  love,  others  drive  them  with 
whips  of  scorpions.  They  all  see  by  the  same  light  and  are 
animated  by  the  same  spirit.  Where,  then,  is  the  great 
spiritual  difference  ?  Is  it  not  in  their  mental  organism  ?  We 
see  the  same  difference  in  their  congregations.  They  are  all 
taught  by  the  same  clergyman,  attend  the  same  church  and 
claim  the  same  reward. 

Try  them  on  a  case  of  charity;  some  of  them  would 
not  give  the  sunny  side  of  a  stump  to  a  frozen  beggar,  others 
give  even  to  the  undeserving. 

All  of  them  do  act  according  to  their  mental  organism. 
Talk  about  the  spirit !  The  character  of  the  spirit  is  always 
determined  by  the  material  with  which  it  comes  in  contact, 
A  man  is  a  good  or  a  bad  man  upon  the  basis  of  his  mental 
organism. 

Behold  the  ancient  pyramids  of  distant  days  ;  contem- 
plate the  magnificent  temples  of  succeeding  ages,  and  all  the 
buildings  erected  for  devotion.  They  stand  as  silent  as  the 
dead  material  of  which  they  are  composed.  The  human 
brain  is  the  great  spiritual  temple  of  humanity.  It  is  holy 
ground,  consecrated  by  the  unseen  hand,  upon  which  every 
mother  in  the  world  can  rear  the  spiritual  edifice  of  her 
children,  though  it  be  upon  a  puncheon  floor  inclosed  with 
the  rude  logs  of  her  native  land. 

Daniel  said  to  Belshazzar,  when  he  read  the  hand-writing 
on  the  wall :  "Thou  art  weighed  in  the  balances,  and  found 
wanting;  thy  kingdom  is  divided,  and  given  to  the  Medes 
and  Persians."  No  one  believes  that  the  king's  body  had 
been  weighed  in  a  pair  of  scales  and  found  wanting  in  avoir- 


172  PEN    PICTURES. 

dupois  weight.  The  most  refined  results  of  the  human  mind 
have  received  a  name,  and  that  name  is  ho?wr.  The  king's 
honor  had  been  weighed  and  found  wanting.  Belshazzar 
was  not  a  Jew,  nor  did  he  observe  the  Jewish  ritual. 

Now,  I  appeal  to  this  assembly  ;  you  all  have  friends  and 
associates,  some  of  them  you  would  trust  with  your  money — 
you  would  trust  them  with  your  lives — others  you  would  not 
trust  with  a  pair  of  skates,  because  you  have  weighed  their 
honor  in  your  balances  and  found  it  wanting.  The  language 
of  men,  in  their  associations,  rites,  ceremonies  and  professions, 
in  all  ages  or  countries,  perish  or  change  form.  But  if  they 
possess  the  principle  of  honor,  it  is  imperishable.  You  may 
steal  my  money,  burn  my  house  and  tarnish  my  goods;  but, 
Oh  God,  save  me  from  the  dark  assassin  who  would  unjustly 
tarnish  my  honor ! 

Go  wkh  me  to  an  ancient  castle  Its  glory  lies  moldering 
in  the  dust — upon  its  features  the  hand  of  fate  has  dealt 
relentless  ruin.  The  stream  of  time  has  left  it  away  back  in 
the  dusky  age.  Slightly  beneath  the  crumbling  rubbish  we 
find  a  coat;  take  it  up,  examine  it,  it  may  have  been  worn 
by  the  founder  of  the  Chaldean  empire  or  him  who  laid  the 
foundation  stone  of  a  pyramid  in  Egypt.  Stamped  with  the 
shape  of  humanity,  we  know  it  once  covered  a  man ;  nothing 
more  does  it  reveal— poor,  poor,  dumb  garment. 

Look !  here  is  the  man  himself— or  rather  the  body — 
wonderfully  preserved  from  the  fate  of  decay.  The  lips  are 
beautiful  as  ever. — Speak  !  tell  thy  ancient  rights  and  fervent 
prayers— they  are  as  silent  as  the  senseless  rubbish  clustered 
'round  their  moldering  form ;  whatever  sounds  they  may  have 
once  uttered,  whatever  words  they  may  have  once  spoken, 
like  the  coat  the  body  was  nothing  but  the  garment  that 
covered  the  true  seed  of  honor. 

One  more  picture  and  the  curtain  falls. 

The  pictures  of  the  men  of  progress,   put  in  a  frame 


PEN    PICTURES 


17  i 


together,  are  being  hung  up  in  our  parlors.  "But,"  says 
one,  "  that  is  Infidelity— better  preserve  the  pictures  of  the 
holy  men  of  old."  That  is  the  individuality  of  poor  human 
nature,  that  said  morality  is  dead  without  religion— it  is  the 
same  man  who  said  there  is  a  conflict  between  science  and 
revelation. 

There  is  no  conflict  between  true  science  and  true  revela- 
tion. Any  problem  that  does  not  prove  itself  is  no  science. 
Twice  two  are  four — figures  are  a  science  because  they  prove 
themselves.  Astronomy  demonstrates  the  course  of  the 
planets,  and  their  contact  in  eclipse  one  with  another  before 
it  takes  place;  and  geology,  and  all  other  sciences  worthy 
of  the  name,  prove  themselves.  And  what  is  revelation  ? 
There  is  no  power  in  the  universe  that  can  reveal  ignorance. 
To  reveal  is  to  uncover,  to  make  known,  to  give  the  light  of 
knowledge;  and  anything  that  is  not  made  known  is  not 
revealed. 

Standing  under  the  mantle  of  charity,  we  witness  a  great 
conflict  of  human  faith— and  no  wonder,  faith  is  not  a  science 
or  revelation.  Faith  is  a  feature  of  education,  and  applies 
only  to  conditions— for  all  nations  agree  to  the  great  problem 
of  a  future  life.  The  spirit  of  liberty  guarantees  to  every 
man  his  own  faith.  It  is  a  pure  philanthrophy  and  a  noble 
philosophy  that  consecrates  every  man's  faith  upon  the  altar 
of  Charity,  a  beautiful  and  blindfolded  goddess,  who  is  bear- 
ing millions  of  our  race,  of  all  nations  and  countries,  on  the 
wide  wings  of  hope,  to  eternity  in  a  local  spot :  a  heaven 
adorned  with  precious  stones  and  paved  with  gold  ;  a  baby- 
house  of  the  soul  of  ignorance  and  picture  of  the  dark  ages. 

I  endeavored,  in  my  lecture  on  Time  and  Motion,  to 
unfold  the  infinity  of  the  universe,  space  without  limit,  worlds 
without  end.  Time  and  motion  belong  to  the  planets,  the 
planets  belong  to  space.  God  and  eternity  are  everywhere. 
The  spirit  of  intellect  pervades  the  universe,  and  animates 


174  PEN   PICTURES. 

the  soul  of  man  here,  hereafter  and  forever.  It  does  not  en- 
ter the  tomb — the  grave,  and  all  the  powers  of  darkness,  do 
not  bind  it.  The  armies  of  death  perish  at  its  feet.  It  sur- 
vives the  revolution  of  planets  and  the  wreck  of  worlds ;  per- 
vades the  incomprehensible  circle  of  space  intwined  in  the 
arms  of  destiny. 


GENIUS  AND  POETRY. 


GENIUS. 

[In  ancient  fable  an  old  man  of  venerable  aspect  and  silver  beard, 
unlike  other  heathen  gods,  he  ruled  no  particular  passion  or  element, 
but  loaned  a  helping  hand  to  all,  the  Poet,  Author,  Architect,  Teach- 
er,  Navigator,  Statesman,  Orator,  Theologian,  General  in  the  field 
and  all  others,  even  in  the  simplest  avocations  of  life  may  consult 
him  to  advantage.] 

He  lives  not  in  a  sealed  house, 
He  dwells  in  the  open  air, 
He  is  not  found  in  robes  of  wealth, 
Neither  bound  up  in  classic  schools. 

He  lives  in  the  wind,  and  rides  on  the  breeze 
Dwells  in  the  forest  and  tenants  the  trees. 

O  !  tell  me  where  and  when 
True  Genius  comes  to  men  ? 

In  easy  seat  or  cushion  chair, 

He  never  comes  to  hear  your  prayer. 

In  ease  of  body  or  of  mind, 

No  mortal  can  true  Genius  find. 

Faithful  to  all — and  ever  true — 

Work,  work!  and  he  will  work  with  you; 

Work  at  what  you  can  truly  do, 

And  he  will  come  and  work  with  you. 

His  art  is  work,  his  heart  is  brave, 

He  loves  the  free,  and  hates  the  slave, 

He  lives  with  all  who  soar  above — 

Pure  as  light,  and  gentle  as  love. 


176  PEN    PICTURES. 

MY  NATIVE  LAND. 

ADDRESSED    TO  VOUXG  AMERICA. 

In  ages  past — almost  obscure, 

We  trace  the  germs  of  liberty, 

For  ancient  Greece  in  days  of  yore, 

Emerging  from  obscurity, 

Gave  birth  to  men  who  lived  to  love, 

And  all  their  love  was  liberty. 

Crushed  to  earth  by  tyrant  heel, 

Long  ages  slept  in  lethargy, 

Aroused  to  meet  the  foeman's  steel. 

And  in  the  name  of  liberty, 

Fought  fresh  battles  on  the  field 

Of  young  and  brave  America. 

Our  fathers  fought  and  bravely  died, 

When  death  would  pay  off  tyranny  ; 

They  met  the  foemen  side  by  side, 

And  fought  to  win  our  liberty. 

The  grateful  heart  adores  the  name 

They  won  for  their  posterity; 

On  land,  on  sea  'tis  all  the  same, 

The  watchword  is  "Our  Liberty.'' 

For  teeming  lands  and  homes  made  dear, 

By  all  the  ties  of  purity, 

They  held  the  claim  without  a  fear, 

And  still  they  fought  for  liberty. 

With  their  brave  blood,  as  pure  as  light, 

And  free  from  the  germs  of  tyranny, 

The  last  brave  call  heard  in  the  fight, 

Was,  leave  to  us  "  Our  Liberty." 

A  playful  boy  accosted  me, 

With  words  of  wisdom — I  may  say. 


PEN    PICTURES.  !T7 

For  lads  that  climb  an  apple  tree, 

His  name  was  Young  America. 

With  golden  locks  and  ruddy  cheeks, 

He  spoke  in  plaintive  tones,  so  mild, 

The  loving  heart  must  ever  seek, 

The  memory  of  the  growing  child. 

In  every  State,  so  broad  and  fair, 

The  little  boys  triumphant  stand, 

And  I  must  tell  you,  that  they  are 

The  glory  of  my  native  land. 

He  spoke  of  Congress,  and  the  men 

Who  represent  the  present  age, 

The  heroes  of  the  sword  and  pen, 

The  soldier,  and  the  stately  sage. 

He  spoke  of  time,  long  in  the  past, 

When  clubs  and  sticks  were  used  by  men, 

But  now  we  travel  on  so  fast, 

We  only  need  to  use  the  pen. 

He  spoke  of  Justice,  with  her  scales 

Suspended  from  her  legal  hand, 

Stamped  on  my  heart,  with  plaintive  tales, 

The  glory  of  my  native  land. 

He  spoke  of  all  our  history  past, 

And  then  he  wav'd  his  little  hand; 

I  saw  in  him — from  first  to  last, 

The  glory  of  my  native  lam?. 

His  name  is  one — to  all  the  same, 

He  stood  where  all  the  boys  must  stand, 

And  to  the  busy  world  proclaim 

The  glory  of  their  native  land. 

To  him  I  spoke,  in  kind  and  loving  words, 
Roam  through  the  woods  and  hear  the  singing  birds , 
Be  just  to  all,  and  ever  justice  love. 
12 


178  PEN    PICTURES. 

Steal  not  the  sweet  little  eggs  of  a  dove* 

Be  just  to  birds,  for  justice  first  began 

In  the  wild  woods,  with  primitive  man ; 

Be  bold  in  thought,  be  bold  in  action  too, 

Be  bold  in  justice,  and  in  virtue  true. 

Be  true  to  thyself,  be  just  when  you  pray, 

As  just  in  the  week  as  on  the  Lord's  day; 

Of  all  the  problems  ponder d  o'er  so  long, 

It  is  the  living  test  of  right  and  wrong. 

Boys  who  never  steal  an  egg,  or  drink  a  dram, 

Make  men  who  never  swindle  Uncle  Sam. 

A  flower  planted  in  the  youthful  mind, 

Full-blown  manhood  never  fails  to  find. 

The  stings  of  wrong,  that  with  the  boy  began, 

Will  follow  up  his  growth  and  sting  the  man. 

Then  with  a  gentle  pressure  of  the  hand, 

Casting  o'er  the  broad  and  beautiful  land.  ■* 

The  old,  the  honest  are  passing  swiftly  away, 

The  men  of  the  future  are  the  boys  of  to-day. 

The  learn'd,  and  the  wise,  the  good  and  the  brave. 

Are  passing  away  and  filling  the  grave. 

If  examples  were  blank,  no  mortal  could  see, 

What  the  rising  generation  would  be. 

Men  make  boys,  and  boys  make  men,  good  or  bad, 

The  mold  is  cast — and  finished  with  the  lad. 

This  great  country — hills  and  plains,  lakes  and  boys, 

Iron  arms,  long  rivers,  its  hopes  and  joys ; 

From  sea  to  sea,  beneath  a  genial  sun, 

Great  in  extent,  in  union,  one. 

For  you  the  struggling  past  has  lived  to  save, 

The  land  of  the  free,  and  home  of  the  brave. 

To  you  transmitted  with  a  generous  hand, 

Treasures  of  a  broad  and  beautiful  land, 

And  you  with  a  fond  helpmate  by  your  side, 


PEN    PICTURES.  179 

May  blend  sweet  home  with  a  national  pride. 

The  rivers,  and  lakes,  the  towns,  and  the  lands, 

Will  soon  be  transmitted  to  your  hands ; 

The  sacred  records,  and  government  too, 

Will  also  be  transmitted  to  you. 

Old  fate  is  coming  with  her  magic  wand, 

Peering  all  through  this  beautiful  land, 

And  whether  in  search  of  the  sword  or  the  pen, 

Will  seldom  mistake  representative  men. 

Be  just,  and  true,  and  never  be  too  late, 

Having  no  fears  of  fortune,  or  of  fate ; 

Work  for  the  right  and  never  be  afraid, 

The  right  is  at  par,  and  is  always  paid. 

Work  with  the  brain,  and  work  with  the  hand, 

Work  for  the  right,  work  for  your  native  land. 

Live  with  the  just,  and  die  with  the  brave, 
And  flowers  of  fame  will  bloom  o'er  your  grave. 
Think  for  yourself— mold  your  thought  refined, 
Treasure  in  the  brain  jewels  of  the  mind; 
For  men  have  thought  before,  and  thought  sublime, 
Through  all  the  busy  world  before  your  time ; 
Unfolded  worlds  from  Diamonds  in  the  sky, 
Scan'd  endless  space  with  artificial  eye. 
Gave  life  to  words,  and  talk'd  across  the  sea, 
Released  the  slave,  the  human  mind  is  free, 
Free  to  think  in  every  shape,  and  form, 
To  raise  the  wind  and  to  calm  the  storm. 


180 


PEN   PICTURES. 

RISE  AND  FALL  OF  OLD  NICK. 

ADDRESSED    TO    THE    DEVIL. 

Come  Beelzebub,  thou  sneaking  ape  of  time, 

Conceived  in  sin,  and  born  in  open  crime; 

Transgressing  the  law — long  years  ago, 

The  charges  are  made,  stern  justice  must  know, 

What  pleadings  are  brought  to  lie  in  the  court, 

Guilty,  or  not  guilty  you  must  report. 

The  judges  are  waiting,  anxious  to  know, 

What  you  will  plead,  with  whom  you  will  go. 

Come  honestly  up  and  answer  the  suit, 

Charged  with  tasting  forbidden  fruit ; 

You  fled  from  the  garden — in  shape  a  snake, 

Determined  to  capture  all  you  could  take. 

Afraid  of  the  light,  slip'd  through  the  dark, 

Crossed  over  the  flood,  outside  of  the  ark; 

Afflicted  old  Job,  and  strip' d  of  his  wealth, 

Entered  his  flesh  and  poisoned  his  health. 

From  the  land  of  Uz  you  followed  the  Jews, 

From  tribe  to  tribe  you  carried  the  news, 

Stood  at  the  altar,  and  wrote  with  the  Scribes, 

To  the  king  of  Persia  you  gave  ten  tribes. 

Grew  handsomely  large,  and  strong  by  degrees, 

Your  form  was  changed  by  the  Pharisees. 

In  Babylonian  captivity — 

Your  serpent  form  lack'd  activity, 

The  Pharisees  first  gave  you  legs  and  feet, 

With  dragon  head  they  made  your  form  complete. 

To  travel '  round  the  world,  o'er  hill  and  bog, 

Followed  by  the  three-headed  Grecian  dog. 

Then  with  Jew  and  Greek,  sneaking  through  the  land, 

To  show  the  wicked  world  how  Devils  stand, 


PEN    PICTURES.  181 

Deceiving  them  all  with  wonderful  ease 

By  scouting  the  faith  of  the  Sadducees, 

Then  tempting  the  Good,  for  forty  long  days, 

Threw  up  the  sponge,  and  spoke  in  his  praise. 

Rebuked  by  the  Good,  you  enter'd  the  swine, 

Persuading  some  men  to  root  in  that  line. 

Last  seen  by  Michael,  as  he  supposes, 

Claiming  the  bones  and  body  of  Moses. 

Next  seen  by  St.  John,  revealing  your  reign, 

Lamenting  your  fate,  and  bound  with  a  cha'n, 

Accused  by  the  just,  and  judged  by  your  peers, 

Was  banished  from  the  Jews  a  thousand  years. 

Forsaking  these  men,  and  leaving  their  home, 

Prospected  with  Greeks — and  settled  at  Rome, 

Spread  with  the  faithful  all  over  the  grove, 

Stripping  all  men  as  you  stripped  old  Job. 

The  charges  in  short,  summed  up  in  brief, 

All  men  call  you  a  liar  and  a  thief. 

With  charges  so  grave,  and  granted  -fair  play, 

In  defense  of  your.self,  what  can  you  say  ? 

The  Devil  rose  up,  and  shaking  his  mane, 

Opened  his  mouth  in  eloquent  strain, 

With  sparks  in  Mis  eyes,  and  tongue  rolling  'round, 

With  feet  wide  apart,  and  tail  on  the  ground, 

Rattled  his  hoofs,  no  longer  a  snake, 

Hell-d  up  his  head,  and  boldly  he  spake — 

66  As  thin  as  the  air,  and  still  as  the  grave, 

I  live  with  the  bad,  and  work  with  the  knave, 

Molding  the  mean,  and  greeting  the  grand, 

I'm  passing  through  each  house  in  the  land, 

Forsaking  the  wise,  I  stay  with  the  fool, 

No  charges  are  made,  I  keep  a  free  school, 

Eat  without  bread,  and  fatten  on  a  fuss, 

Abandon  the  dead,  as  useless  to  us — 


182  PEN    PICTURES. 

The  living  are  mine,  and  all  I  can  get, 

Are  handsomely  taken  in  their  own  net. 

My  traps  are  set,  both  early  and  late, 

Credulous  game  is  caught  without  bait. 

The  field  is  broad,  and  wide  as  the  earth — 

To  credulous  game,  all  classes  give  birth. 

I'm  sure  to  be  sought,  by  the  mean  and  low, 

The  rich  and  the  proud  will  come  to  the  show. 

In  castle  and  cot,  the  great  and  the  small, 

Aside  from»the  light,  will  give  me  a  call. 

Bad  men  follow  me,  wherever  I  go — 

Begging  me  out  of  all  that  I  know, 

My  thoughts  are  quick,  and  given  at  a  stroke, 

Are  easy  to  learn  when  under  the  yoke, 

Coasting  the  sea,  and  all  over  the  land, 

I  meet  with  men  to  take  by  the  hand, 

Restless  and  rude,  for  I  never  was  kind, 

Though  lost  to  the  good,  I'm  not  hard  to  find. 

I  pass  by  the  good,  the  just  I  abhor, 

Have  constantly  kept  all  nations  at  war. 

Have  wrote  with  the  learn'd,  embellished  the  pages 

By  stratagems  sought — have  darken'd  all  ages, 

Have  bound  to  the  stake,  and  hung  with  the  rope, 

Slept  with  the  queen,  and  dined  with  the  Pope, 

Familiar  with  abuse  and  lost  to  all  shame, 

Hopeless  of  life,  I  am  nothing  but  a  ?iame. 

A  wonderful  name,  all  over  the  earth, 

The  passions  of  men,  have  given  me  birth, 

The  passions  are  good,  when  properly  used, 

The  Devil  comes  in  to  see  them  abused. 

When  passions  are  found,  the  force  of  the  mind, 

The  Devil  himself,  you  never  will  find. 

Remember  these  words,  a  wise  man  said. 


PEN    PICTURES.  183 


'The  Devil  is  not  in  a  good  man's  head,' 
I'm  vanishing  now,  out  of  your  sight, 
Gentlemen  all,  I  bid  you  good  night. " 


THE  CONFEDERATE  FLAG. 

[The  following  poetic  address  was  preserved  by  u  rebei  woman, 
and  is  inserted  for  the  benefit  ot  those  who  did  not  witness  the  wai 
spirit  in  Missouri  in  1861.  The  rebel  ladies  of  Hattsburg  manuiao 
tured  a  very  fine  confederate  flag,  intended  for  the  company  of  Cap* 
tain  Crumlow,  who  were  upon  the  eve  of  starting  to  join  the  amy 
of  General  Sterling  Price.  A  formal  presentation  was  arranged— the 
company  and  a  large  number  of  citizens  assembled  at  the  Plattsburg 
College.  A  person  whose  name  and  address  was  not  preserved,  pre- 
sented the  flag  in  the  name  of  the  ladies.  Captain  Crumlow  requested 
your  orator  to  receive  the  flag  in  behalf  of  the  company  with  a  suit- 
able response.  Your  orator  received  the  flag,  and  holding  it  in' his 
right  hand,  partly  unfurled,  returned  the  following  response  :j- 

LADIES. 

Should  blood  and  carnage  fill  the  landa 
And  cities  and  towns  no  longer  stand; 
Should  conquer'd  courage  gasp  for  breath; 
And  your  defenders,  lie  coid  in  death — 
Butcher'd  and  mangled  on  the  field, 
No  arm  be  left,  this  banner  to  shielc1 ; 
Take  up  its  folds,  with  tender  hands, 
And  on  the  ground  where  virtue  stands, 
Trust  in  God,  and  consecrate 
This  banner  to  their  mortal  fate. 
But,  no  such  scene  will  ever  stain 
The  coral  of  the  human  brain. 
Mars  may  forge  infernal  rods, 


184  PEN    PICTURES. 

And  Northmen  dream  of  coal  black  gods ; 
These  lords  will  fail  to  come  to  time, 
For  Northmen  in  a  southern  clime. 
Our  country  lies,  both  far  and  wide, 
And  in  it  dwells  a  native  pride 
No  hand  can  conquer  or  subdue, 
While  held  by  such  a  brace  as  you. 
In  Crumlow's  men  you  place  your  trust — 
They'll  bear  this  flag  above  the  dust. 

As»the  flag  was  handed  to  the  standard-bearer  of  the  company, 
Gen.  D.  R.  Atchison,  Ex-Senator  of  the  United  States,  appeared  on 
the  stage  to  congratulate  the  speaker.  Citizens  threw  up  their  hatsr 
and  ladies  waved  their  'kerchiefs  in  applause,  while  the  company 
marched  off  with  the  banner  thrown  to  the  breeze,  followed  by  run- 
ning boys  and  idle  negroes.  A  picture  fitly  representing  the  brave 
heroism  with  which  Price's  army  went  through  the  first  year  of  the 
war. 


FAMILY   AND  FATE. 

ADDRESS    TO    A    FEMALE    RELATION. 

You  must  nOt  think  the  cares  of  life  with  me 
Are  smooth,  and  placid  as  a  summer  sea. 
The  joyous  days,  one  by  one  revealed, 
Turn  fresh  trouble  long,  long  concealed  ■ 
Gray  locks  of  time  adorn  the  aching  brow 
Unfinished  work  drags  heavy  now. 

While  on  we  march,  in  one  continuous  flood, 
I'm  but  a  drop  of  the  commingled  blood ; 
Homogeneous  with  the  family  name. 


PEN  PICTURES. 


185 


Preserving  kindred  ties  and  family  fame; 
So  long,  slowly  wise  and  darkly  great, 
No  stores  of  wit  or  large  estate 
To  deck  their  graves  or  write  their  fate. 

Meekly  have  I  lived,  and  with  the  poor  must  die, 
No  stone  to  mark  the  ground  where  I  must  lie ; 
Sunk  with  the  motley  herd  of  human  kind, 
No  trace  that  once  I  lived  to  leave  behind ; 
A  mound  of  earth  alone  remains  with  me — 
-Tis  all  I  ask,  and  all  the  proud  can  be. 

When  time  shall  cool  my  blood  and  steal  my  breath, 

When  life  shall  reach  the  silent  shade  of  death, 

When  the  cold,  damp  clods  cluster  'round  my  head. 

Earth  to  earth,  sweet  sister,  will  I  be  dead  ? 

In  this  dark  dream  of  death's  long  silent  sleep, 

I  pray  my  niece  these  hopeful  lines  to  keepc 

Poor  tired  soul,  humble  and  forgiving, 

Without  future  hope,  life  ain't  worth  living. 

Death  is  but  a  name  magnified  by  fear, 

The  living  elements  that  disappear 

With  nature's  soft  hand,  are  forever  here. 

In  these  elements  the  hope  of  heaven, 

A  living  hope  by  kind  nature  given. 

Come,  genius,  come,  tune  thy  living  song 
To  'muse  the  merry  world  while  I  sleep  so  long ; 
Sleep  not  with  me — act  with  the  living  throng ; 
Cheer  up  sad  times  with  merry  heart  and  head — 
Lie  not  entombed,  but  resurrect  the  dead. 

Dark  mantled  fear,  with  his  bow  and  quiver, 
Stands  on  the  brink  of  death's  dark  river; 
The  shield  of  antiquity  covers  his  head — 
He  shoots  at  the  living,  not  at  the  dead : 


186  PEN    PICTURES. 

Through  trembling  faith  his  fleeting  arrows  run, 
Inflicting  a  thousand  deaths  instead  of  one. 
When  in  future  bliss,  or  in  hopeful  prayer. 
No  mortal  ken  can  see  just  what  we  are. 

God  gives  the  mind  to  us  as  free  as  air : 
Life  lies  in  action  and  is  everywhere  ; 
Above,  below,  around,  through  endless  space, 
Life,  mind  and  light  fill  every  friendly  place. 
Darkness  and  death,  obscure  to  human  sight, 
Can  only  remain  where  there  is  no  light. 
Life,  mind  and  light,  eternai  in  the  skies, 
Solace  of  the  weak  and  soui  of  the  wise — 
Light  never  was  dark,  and  life  never  dies, 

Through  endless  space  the  thoughtful  man  can  pierce, 

LTntarnished  mind  pervades  the  universe. 

Shall  the  dark,  silent  tomb,  with  bolts  and  bars, 

Imprison  mind  that  travels  through  the  stars  ? 

Shall  ponderous  matter,  nature's  body,  find 

Dominion  over  active,  thinking  mind? 

Men  do  not  perish  with  their  flesh  and  bones, 

Or  cease  to  be,  when  they  have  ceased  their  groans. 

For  flesh  and  bones  are  not  the  man  defined — 

Strange  elements  of  a  different  kind, 

Reveal  the  man  as  they  reveal  the  mind. 

The  brain  is  not  the  mind,  as  some  suppose; 

We  see  it  there,  but  know  not  where  it  goes. 

Spirit,  soul,  apparition,  thought  refined, 

High,  deep,  quick,  endless — Oh  God !  what  is  mind  ? 

It  moves  my  hand,  molds  my  measured  verse, 

Moves  everything,  pervades  the  universe. 


PEN   PICTURES.  187 

TWILIGHT. 

INTERMEDIATE    BODY   AND    SOUL. 

The  rainbow  hooped  the  eastern  sky, 
The  melting  clouds  passed  softly  by, 
The  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  trees — 
Twilight  hung  on  the  western  breeze. 
The  earth  rolled  on  with  day  and  night; 
But  who  shall  claim  the  soft  twilight  ? 
Retreating  light,  cast  on  the  ground, 
Made  cottage-homes  a  scene  profound. 
The  plowman  left  his  furrowed  field, 
The  light  of  day  just  half  concealed. 
The  house-wife  spread  her  generous  board, 
Received  her  mate  and  blessed  the  Lord. 
The  rivers  waved  in  calm  delight 
Beneath  the  silent  shades  of  night; 
Spirits,  concealed  by  grave-yard  stones, 
Silently  sleep  with  dead  men's  bones; 
The  moving  earth  dark  robes  unfurled, 
And  sleep  subdued  just  half  the  world; 
The  iron  tongue  of  time  had  told 
That  dreary  night  was  growing  old; 
Aurora  ope'd  her  wakeful  eye, 
Twilight  dawned  in  the  eastern  sky  5 
The  day  of  life  must  also  close, 
The  night  of  death  no  mortal  knows; 
Let  all  men  view  in  calm  delight 
The  evening  shade  of  life's  twilight, 
When  full  of  years  and  honors  too, 
The  evening  brings  solace  to  you; 
Departing  day  will  bid  farewell, 
When  twilight  comes  no  tongue  can  tell — ■ 


188  PEN    PICTURES. 

So,  calm  and  thoughtful,  let  us  see 
What  twilight  brings  to  you  and  me ; 
A  scene  behind  and  one  before — 
Between  two  worlds,  Oh  !  mind  explore 
Boundless  realms  and  endless  space, 
See  time  and  fate  stand  face  to  face. 
The  night  of  death,  so  cold  and  dark, 
The  faith  we  have  is  but  a  spark 
Of  living  light  in  every  breast, 
The  rich  and  poor  will  all  be  blest. 
The  busy  day  of  human  life, 
When  time  is  full  of  peace  and  strife, 
With  scenes  behind  and  hope  before, 
The  rich  forget  the  needy  poor. 
Beyond  the  earth  no  poor  are  found, 
If  there  we  tread  on  holy  ground, 
The  poor  are  rich,  the  good  are  great, 
In  coming  to  the  future  state. 
When  twilight  comes  the  sun  has  set, 
The  earth  recedes,  and  we  have  met 
Where  light  and  shade  obscure  the  sight, 
'Twixt  life  and  death  we  see  twilight. 


THE  DEVIL  AND  TOM  WALKER. 

Kentucky,  the  home  of  Clay,  Crittenden,  Marshall,  Prentice, 
and  other  men  of  distinction,  was  also  the  home  of  one  Thomas  Wal- 
ker, who,  by  circumstances  and  the  trials  of  the  times,  gave  his  name 
to  history.  Living  near  Frankford,  it  was  in  that  city,  that  he  ap- 
peared as  a  hero,  playing  the  fiddle  and  drinking  whisky. 

Tom  was  well  advanced  in  years,  when  the  Rev.  William  Miller, 
from  a  close  scrutiny  of  the  prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament,  predic- 


PEN    PICTURES  ISO 

ted  the  end  of  the  world  in  1843.  Whatever  may  have  been  Tom's 
good  or  bad  qualities,  he  was  a  confirmed  Millerite.  One  day  in 
Frankford,  as  the  dissolution  drew  near,  Tom  to  drown  fear,  indulged 
immoderately  in  intoxicating  drinks,  and  while  he  was  in  a  stupefied 
and  senseless  condition,  a  party  of  Frankford  boys,  from  eight  to 
twelve  years  of  age,  just  emerging  into  the  bright  paths  of  youth,  and 
of  course,  heedless  of  the  approaching  dissolution  of  the  globe  ;  had 
by  some  means  obtained  possession  of  a  large  raw  hide.  Upon  this  they 
carefully  placed  Tom's  body  and  carried  it  to  the  suburbs  of  the  city, 
and  there  stretching  Tom  upon  the  ground,  carefully  covered  him  with 
the  raw  hide,  and  then  placing  upon  him  a  large  pile  of  straw  set  it  on 
fire. 

In  the  meantime,  Tom  had  dreamt  the  world  was  ended,  and 
himself  arrived  in  the  infernal  regions.  The  heat  of  the  fire  had 
aroused  Tom  from  his  lethargy,  imagination  completed  the  picture, 
and  Tom  rushing  out  from  the  flames,  with  burning  straw  streaming 
from  his  person,  cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice:  "  The  Devil  and  Tom 
Walker."  From  this  circumstance  "  The  Devil  and  Tom  Walker," 
became  a  by-word  or  slang  phrase  in  Kentucky.  Tom  afterward 
joined  a  temperance  society  and  became  a  sober  man. 

In  the  following  poem  he  is  chosen  to  personate  temperance  and 
virtue,  while  the  Devil  personates  vice  and  crime. 

The  Devil  and  Tom  Walker  one  afternoon, 

A  solemn  subject  profoundly-  discussed; 
The  Devil  was  anxious  to  keep  a  saloon, 

If  to  him,  his  grace  could  honestly  trust. 
Tom  Walker  affirmed,  "  the  business  was  bad." 

The  Devil  stood  up  and  curtly  replied  : 
"Idle  men  everywhere,  would  surely  be  glad, 

If  the  business  could  be  honestly  tried." 
Tom  Walker  said :   "  The  history  of  the  past, 

Recorded  saloons,  as  they  have  bursted, 
A  notable  thing  from  first  to  last — 

Honesty,  has  always  been  worsted." 
"A  necessary  evil,"  said  the  Devil, 

"In  every  age,  and  in  every  clime; 


190  PEN    PICTURES. 

Therefore  bad  men  can  surely  be  civil, 

When  dissembling  will  cover  a  crime." 
Tom  Walker  said:   "  Vice  is  not  necessary, 

Though  Spirits  and  Demons  may  pretend*— 
To  mix  them  up  from  June  to  January, 

Their  vice  and  virtue  never  will  blind. 
That  evils  are  necessary,  some  have  told, 

Inducing  the  thoughtless  to  believe  ; 
Because  the  problem  is  ancient,  and  old, 

And  well  calculated  to  deceive." 
The  Devil  conceded  the  point  to  Tom, 

But  said  to  himself:   "  The  will  is  the  way, 
The  club-house  will  gather  some  custom, 

And  in  it,  I  can  gather  some  pay. 
Idle  men  drink,  and  idle  men  fight, 

Idle  men  fuss,  and  idle  men  tight — 
Sleep  through  the  day,  and  fuss  all  night. 

Virtue  may  fade,  but  the  dollar  is  bright, 
Eyes  go  blind,  when  the  dollar's  in  sight. 

Vice  lives  in  the  dark,  and  flees  from  the  light, 
Gives  virtue  the  dodge,  and  justice  the  blight ; 

If  Tom  is  wrong,  the  Devil  is  right." 
Changing  his  tone,  the  Devil  contended; 

11  Bad  men  love  justice  as  well  as  the  good, 
And  justice  will  swear  they  have  defended, 

The  cause  of  the  bad  as  well  as  the  good." 
' '  You  argue  your  case  exceedingly  well, 

Guarding  the  points,  to  meet  Tom  Walker  • 
Carry  some  justice  to  the  gates  of  hell, 

To  hear  the  sound  of  a  smooth  talker." 
1 '  Older  than  the  State,  stronger  than  the  wise, 

You  live  at  the  root  of  the  government ; 
True  men  everywhere  must  open  their  eyes, 

Or  quietly  suffer  the  punishment." 


PEN    PICTURES. 

'"  Ashamed  of  your  trade,  you  live  in  the  dark, 

Borrow  the  cloak  of  some  other  game ; 
Put  on  the  dog  make  other  trades  bark, 

Sounding  your  business  in  some  other  name.'' 
"  The  patriarch  Noah  planted  the  vine, 

His  household  joined  to  gather  the  grape ; 
He  also  drank  his  fill  of  the  wine, 

If  the  Devil  caught  Noah,  who  can  escape  ?  " 
Tom  Walker  may  plead,  and  Tom  may  talk, 

The  Devil  takes  notes  to  feather  his  nest, 
Can  silently  go,  where  Tom  can't  walk, 

Give  two  in  the  game  and  play  for  the  rest. 
The  Devil  has  played  for  long  ages  past, 

A  winning  game  on  all  classes  of  men ; 
Detected  by  Tom,  checkmated  at  last, 

By  subscribing  his  game  with  ink  and  pen. 
Who,  like  the  Devil  would  ruin  the  right, 

By  blighting  the  young  with  still-worm  food  ? 
Live  in  the  dark,  and  darken  the  light, 

Drink  lager  beer  and  call  the  stuff  good. 
How  darker  than  dreary  night  it  is, 

To  all  who  drink  destructive  wine  ; 
The  Devil  is  sure  to  claim  for  his, 

The  sunny  side  of  virtue's  line. 
Tom  Walker  lived  to  see  the  vision  end, 

Through  burning  straw  an  awful  sight  -f 
The  Devil  to  him  a  faithless  friend, 

And  all  who  live  to  learn  him  right. 
Shades  of  the  dead  and  the  Devil's  dark  light, 

Tom  Walker  no  more,  nor  Devil  in  sight ; 
Cut  loose  from  the  wine,  and  never  get  tight. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  good  night — good  night ! 


191 


1^'-  PEN    PICTURES. 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  SNOW. 

AN  EMBLEM  OF  VIRTUE. 

Rainbow  of  thought,  in  the  poet's  soft  eye, 
Encircle  the  mind  with  beautiful  sky; 
To  speak  of  the  pure  virtues  of  earth, 
The  beautiful  thoughts,  emblems  give  birth, 
Nothing  on  earth  that's  treasur'd  below 
Is  half  so  pure  as  beautiful  snow. 

God  clothed  the  earth  with  air  and  water, 
Eve,  the  first  fair  and  beautiful  daughter, 
Transmitted  to  her  descending  race 
Angelic  form,  and  beautiful  face ; 
And  purity  too,  each  gallant  should  know, 
As  pure  and  stainless  as  beautiful  snow. 

Let  me  say  to  each  descending  daughter, 
Cling  to  the  emblem  of  air  and  water ; 
God  save  the  daughter,  pure  and  fair, 
Beauty,  blended  with  water  and  air, 
The  treasures  of  earth  honored  below 
Girls  are  as  pure  as  beautiful  snow. 

Let  nature's  demands  defiantly  hold 
Sinful  indulgence,  and  offers  of  gold. 
Sensitive  as  the  blushing  young  daughter 
Are  flowers  of  spring  sighing  for  water ; 
Sin's  dark  hand  slightly  touch'd  will  show, 
Corruption's  mark  in  beautiful  snow. 

The  power  of  state  or  pride  of  sage 
In  all  of  the  past,  or  a  future  age, 
Will  never  surpass  the  emblem  so  fair. 
Made  by  the  blending. of  water  and  air; 


PEN  PICTURES. 

No  treasure  on  earth  that  woman  can  show 
Will  capture  the  heart  like  beautiful  snow. 

The  love  of  display  and  treasures  of  gold 
In  markets  of  shame,  where  virtue  is  sold. 
Worthless  emblem,  Oh  !  beautiful  daughter, 
Cling  to  the  emblem  of  air  and  water 
Cast  in  your  bosom,  in  order  to  show, 
Your  purity,  like  the  beautiful  snow. 

Wisdom's  bright  eye  may  delinquently  trace 
The  lines  of  the  form,  and  beauties  of  face ; 
Perfection  may  claim,  that  nature  has  made 
A  blushing  young  rose  in  beautiful  shade ; 
As  worthless  as  chaft  the  daughter  may  go, 
Whose  virtue's  not  like  beautiful  snow. 

Cast  in  the  dark  by  a  fatal  mistake, 
From  beautiful  snow  no  mortal  can  take, 
The  stain  of  the  crime,  and  leave  you  as  fair 
As  the  emblem  made  of  water  and  air. 
Beautiful  daughter,  as  onward  you  go, 
Always  remember  the  beautiful  snow. 


193 


BEAUTIFUL  SNOW. 


The  following,  beautiful  poem,  was  written  by  a  woman  in  St. 
Louis  many  years  ago,  and  was  published  in  the  newspapers  at  the 
time.  From  it  your  orator  received  the  idea  of  writing  w  The  Beauti- 
ful Snow."  Thinking  the  old  poem  worthy  of  preservation,  it  is  here 
printed  in  its  original  form. 

Oh,  the  snow,  the  beautiful  snow, 
Filling  the  sky  and  the  earth  below ; 


194  PEN    PICTURES. 

Over  the  house-top,  over  the  street, 
Over  the  heads  of  the  people  you  meet, 

Dancing, 

Flirting, 

Skimming  along,. 
Beautiful  snow,  it  can  do  nothing  wrong ; 
Flying  to  kiss  a  fair  lady's  cheek, 
Clinging  to  lips  in  a  frolicsome  freak ; 
Beautiful  snow  from  the  heaven  above, 
Pure  as  an  angel,  gentle  as  love. 

Oh,  the  snow,  the  beautiful  snow, 
How  the  flakes  gather  and  laugh  as  they  go 
Whirling  about  in  their  maddening  fun — 
It  plays  in  its  glee  with  every  one — 

Chasing, 

Laughing, 

Hurrying  by, 
It  lights  on  the  face,  and  it  sparkles  the  eye, 
And  the  dogs,  with  a  bark  and  a  bound, 
Snap  at  the  crystals  that  eddy  around — 
The  town  is  alive  and  its  heart  is  aglow, 
To  welcome  the  coming  of  beautiful  snow. 

How  widely  the  crowd  goes  swaying  along, 
Hailing  each  other  with  humor  and  song; 
How  the  gay  sledges  like  meteors  flash  by, 
Bright  for  a  moment,  then  lost  to  the  eye  ; 

Ringing, 

Swinging, 

Dashing  they  go, 
Over  the  crust  ot  the  beautiful  snow — 
Snow  so  pure  when  it  falls  from  the  sky, 
As  to  make  one  regret  to  see  it  lie 


PEN  PICTURES.  195 

To  be  trampled  and  tracked  by  thousands  of  feet, 
Till  it  blends  with  the  filth  in  the  horrible  street. 

Once  I  was  as  pure  as  the  snow,  but  I  fell — 
Fell  like  the  snowrlakes  from  heaven  to  hell; 
Fell  to  be  trampled  as  filth  in  the  street ; 
Fell  to  be  scoffed,  to  be  spit  on  and  beat ; 

Pleading, 

Cursing, 

Dreading  to  die, 
Selling  my  soul  to  whosoever  would  buy ; 
Dealing  in  shame  for  a  morsel  of  bread; 
Hating  the  living,  fearing  the  dead. 
Merciful  God!  Have  I  fallen  so  low? 
And  yet  I  was  once  like  the  beautiful  snow  ! 
Once  I  was  fair  as  the  beautiful  snow, 
With  an  eye  like  a  crystal,  a  heart  like  its  glow; 
Once  I  was  loved  for  my  innocent  grace- 
Flattered  and  sought  for  the  charms  of  my  face. 

Father, 

Mother, 

Sister,   all, 
God  and  myself  I  have  lost  by  my  fall ; 
The  veriest  wretch  that  goes  shivering  by, 
Will  make  a  wide  swoop  lest  I  wander  too  nigh; 
For  all  that  is  on  or  above  me,  I  know 
There's  nothing  that's  pure  as  the  beautiful  snow. 
How  strange  it  should  be  that  this  beautiful  snow 
Should  fall  on  a  sinner  with  nowhere  to  go ! 
How  strange  should  it  be  when  night  comes  again . 
If  the  snow  and  the  ice   struck  my  desperate  brain  ! 

Fainting, 

Freezing, 

Dying  alone, 


! 


196  PEN    PICTURES. 

Too  wicked  for  prayer,  too  weak  for  a  moan 
To  be  heard  in  the  streets  of  the  crazy  town, 
Gone  mad  in  the  joy  of  the  snow  coming  down; 
To  be  and  to  die  in  my  terrible  woe, 
With  a  bed  and  a  shroud  of  the  beautiful  snow. 

Helpless  and  foul  as  the  trampled  snow, 
Sinner,  despair  not,  Christ  stoopeth  low 
To  rescue  the  soul  that  is  lost  in  its  sin, 
And  raise  it  to  life  and  enjoyment  again. 

Groaning. 

Bleeding. 

Dying  for  thee, 
The  Crucified  hung  on  the  accursed  tree; 
His  accents  of  mercy  fell  soft  on  thine  ear — 
Is  there  mercy  for  me  ?     Will  he  hear  my  prayer? 
Oh !  God !  in  the  stream  that  for  sinners  did  flow, 
Wash  me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow. 


THE  WORKMAN'S  SATURDAY  NIGHT. 

A    TRIBUTE    TO    HONEST    LABOR. 

Through  the  wide  world  'tis  cheerful  delight, 

To  speak  of  life  scenes  on  Saturday  night, 

When  merry  workmen  and  their  wages  meet, 

And  leave  the  cold  shop  for  the  homeward  street, 

To  see  the  dark  mantle  cover  the  sky — 

The  light  in  the  cottage  meeting  his  eye ; 

The  patient  inmates  expecting  him  back 

To  replenish  the  house  with  all  they  lack. 

The  busy  housewife  preparing  his  food, 

And  scraping  the  scraps  to  make  the  grub  good. 


PEN  PICTURES.  197 

A  prattling  boy,  some  four  years  old  or  more, 

With  arms  extended  meets  him  at  the  door ; 

The  little  eyes  turn'd  up  so  clear  and  fair, 

Says,    "Papa,  baby  climbed  up  by  the  chair." 

His  hopes  tell  his  fears  like  the  Jewish  Dan, 

That  his  baby  boy  will  soon  be  a  man. 

His  wife  scans  the  scene,   delighted  to  know 

That  all  through  the  house,   the  baby's  the  show 

That  mothers  must  think  their  babies  a  show, 

And  workmen  thus  feel — pray,   how  do  you  know? 

God  trusted  me  with  a  bright  baby  boy, 

Who  taught  me  to  feel  his  babyhood  joy. 

If  God  gave  you  the  same  little  treasure ; 

He  also  gave  the  same  baby-measure. 

No  measure  so  pure  to  measure  delight. 

As  baby  pleasures  on  Saturday  night. 

His  mission  on  earth  and  love  of  his  life. 

Is  blended  at  home  with  children  and  wife,, 

His  purse  in  her  pocket — rich  as  a  Jew, 

Replenish  the  house,   I  trust  it  to  you; 

The  ends  made  to  meet  in  a  workman's  life, 

By  none  so  even  as  a  truthful  wife. 

Let  the  public  halls  go  on  in  grand  display, 

And  workmen  go  home  where  they  love  to  stay. 

Let  the  tempter  come,  with  allurements  bold, 

That  Madam  Rumor's  tongue  has  softly  told, 

Enticing  stories  of  high  standing  fame, 

That  price  the  state  below  the  promised  nr.me. 

Let  all  the  scenes  darting  through  the  mind, 

Leave  labor's  love  and  workingmen  behind. 

Flora's  fair  fields,   adorned  with  bright  flowers, 

Can  ne'er  win  the  heart  from  his  cottage  hours. 

Home  and  his  children,  the  hope  of  his  life5 

No  vision  so  clear  as  love  for  his  wife. 


198  PEN    PICTURES. 

The  fame  of  the  great  ne'er  made  a  measure 
Large  enough  to  hold  cottage -bound  pleasure 
He  works  with  his  hands  and  then  takes  his  rest 
In  the  bosom  of  love — God  of  the  blest. 
Come,   fashion  and  frolic,  blooming  and  bright, 
But  leave  to  brave  workmen  Saturday  night. 


INSIDE  VIEW  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  MAIL 

REVEALED    BY    THE    ANGEL    OF    OBSERVATION. 

Letter  No.  i. 

Going  West  will  give  each  man  a  farm, 
And  living  West  will  do  the  East  no  harm, 
As  people  spread  along  the  Western  shore, 
The  Eastern  man  will  find  an  open  door. 
The  blue  bird  laid  in  the  di-dapper's  nest, 
And  the  golden  eggs  are  found  in  the  West. 

— Land  Agent. 

Letter  No.  2. 

Katy's  sick  and  Jennie's  gone  to  school, 
The  storm  is  over  and  the  weather's  cool, 
Brother  Tom's  married  and  his  wife  is  gay 
She's  too  fast  for  him,  so  the  people  say 
Some  awful  things,  I  never  ought  to  speak. 
Remember  this,  I'm  coming  home  next  week. 

— Confidential  Sister. 

Letter  No.  3. 

The  note  was  protested,  won't  go  in  bank, 
And  you  are  requested  to  sign  this  blank. 


PEN    PICTURES.  109 

The  current  house  has  failed — aint  worth  a  cent, 
Long  trust  ran  off  and  didn't  pay  his  rent. 
Horn'd  by  the  bulls  and  squeezed  by  the  bears, 
The  golden-wing  gods  demand  our  prayers. 

— Failing  Merchant. 

Letter  No.  4. 

The  little  kitten's  dead,  I'm  so  distressed, 
To  keep  my  spirits  up  I  do  my  best. 
Come  home  right  son,  I'm  so  very  sad, 
When  I  see  Tom,  O,  I-l-e  be  so  glad ! 

— Affectionate  Little  Sister. 

Letter  No.  5. 

I  thought  so  Betsey,  when  you  married  Jim, 
The  devil  a  bit  would  I  take  from  him. 
To  live  in  a  fuss  folks  never  oughter, 
But  prove  yourself  to  be  mother  s  daughter. 
To  fight  and  scratch  is  surely  a  sin, 
But  when  he  starts  the  fuss  al'ys  go  in. 

— Mother-in-Law. 

Letter  No.  6. 

I-v-e  bought  some  land,  paid  half  the  money  down, 
Inclosed  y-o-u-'l-l  find  a  note  on  Billy  Brown. 
Collect  it  right  away.     Tell  him  I-l-e  sue. 
Pay  Joe  the  coin,  I-l-e  pay  the  church  for  you. 

— Church  Member. 

Letter  No.  7. 

Come  over  here,  Rip,  the  best  place  I-v-e  seen, 
Lots  of  boys  in  town,  and  half  of  'em  green. 
I  played  last  night  till  four.     Won  all  the  stakes. 
Bacchus  among  us  with  boots  full  o'  snakes. 


200  PEN  PICTURES. 

Morpheus  embraced  me  till  the  clock  struck  ten, 
Ate  a  late  breakfast,  looked  'round  me,  and  then 
Acted  agent  through  the  day,  softly  and  wise, 
Till  watchmen  on  duty  all  shut  their  eyes. 
And  t-h-e-n  the  foolish  boys  go  in,  y-o-u  b-e-t. 
Come  over  here,  Rip,  and  help  spread  the  net. 

— Fast  Young  Man. 

Letter  No.  S. 

The  case  is  lost.     The  witness  on  the  stand 
Did  not  remember  the  lines  of  the  land. 
His  mind  was  short,  I  told  you  it  would  be, 
The  cost  is  on  y-o-u,  the  work  was  on  me. 

— Attorney  at  Law. 

Letter  No.  <?. 

Silly  went  to  York,  and  there  she  caught  a  beau. 
He  came  home  with  her,  a  silly  chap  you  know. 
Silly  is  so  strange,  as  ugly  as  old  sin, 
But  when  she  meets  a  beau  she  always  takes  him  in. 
Jenny  do  come  home,  sweet  Kitty  Hope  is  dead, 
And  Hopeful  wants  to  know  who  will  make  his  bread. 

— Old  Maid. 

Letter  No.  10. 

Old  dad  is  dead,  I  want  to  break  the  will. 
Joe  gets  the  stock,  the  farm's  left  to  Bill. 
Non  compos  mentis,  I  think  is  the  plea. 
If  learned  in  the  law,  stern  justice  could  see, 
That  fruit  is  the  same  grown  on  the  same  tree. 
I  left  old  dad  but  nineteen  years  ago ; 
Nobody  nursed  him  but  Billy  and  Joe ; 
To  feel  the  soft  side  they  never  were  lazy, 
And  thus  by  degrees  run  the  old  man  crazy. 


PEN    PICTURES.  201 

I  depend  on  y-o-u,  how  much  will  it  take  ? 
I'm  willin'  to  pay  if  the  will  will  break. 

— Prodigal  Son. 

Letter  No.  II. 

If  I  could  sell  the  world  I'd  make  it  cheap, 
A  ten-cent  mark  upon  each  world  I'd  keep, 
To  show  the  world  I  sell  the  world  low  down  ; 
I'd  sell  to  every  man  that  comes  to  town 
Wholesale  supplies.     I'd  buy  from  endless  space, 
At  the  low  price  of  half  a  cent  apiece. 
The  foolish  merchant  fails  for  want  of  eyes 
To  scan  surrounding  space  for  cheap  supplies. 

— Cheap  John. 

Letter  No,  is. 

I  read  eleven  letters  just  to  see  ■ 

What  a  wonderful  thing  the  mail  would  be 

Turned  inside  out  by  the  Good  Anger  s  hand, 

And  read  to  all  the  people  in  the  land. 

The  different  thoughts  of  the  human  race, 

Brought  to  open  light  and  face  to  face. 

How  variegated  ever  and  anon 

To  read  the  statesman  and  reveal  the  crown ; 

The  ever  playful,  prattling  pedagogue ; 

The  cunning,  deep-designing  demagogue; 

The  love-sick  girl,  the  widow  and  the  maid; 

And  what  the  tearful,  weeping  wife  has  said. 

The  Good  Angel  knows  what  measure  belongs 

To  artless  prose  and  warm  poetic  songs ; 

To  fill  the  tearless  eye  to  overflow, 

And  teach  the  heart  to  feel  another's  woe. 

The  Good  Angel  reveals  so  very  slow, 

The  indulgent  reader  must  surely  know, 


202  PEN    PICTURES. 

To  turn  the  ponderous  mail  inside  out, 
A  year  of  holidays  must  come  about. 
Pardpn  me  now,   and  in  the  future  look 
To  the  Good  Angel  for  another  book. 

— The  Angel  of  Observation. 


HARD  TIMES. 


Come,  hopeful  men,  I  am  prepared 
To  tell  you  why  the  times  are  hard. 
Around  the  world,  go  where  you  will, 
Across  the  plain  and  o'er  the  hill, 
To  labor  for  the  needful  dimes, 
You  meet  the  cry  of  cold  hard  times. 
Nothing  can  be  without  a  cause, 
Hard-times  are  made  by  certain  laws ; 
Individual  action  brings 
Hard-times  1o  people  and  to  kings. 
The  poor  girl  strives  to  ape  the  rich, 
Pays  a  fancy  price  for  every  stitch. 
Her  father  works  with  all  his  skill 
For  extra  dimes  to  pay  the  bill. 
The  poor  boy  thinks  hard  work  a  shame, 
Without  a  fortune  or  a  name, 
Will  try  to  make  himself  a  man 
By  joining  hands  with  some  low  clan. 
The  farmer  works  to  clear  the  woods; 
The  merchant  sells  him  shoddy  goods. 
The  doctor  gives  his  poison  pills, 
The  patients  die  or  pay  the  bills. 
Less  work  is  done  for  want  of  hands 


PEN  PICTURES.  203 

To  clear  the  ground  or  till  the  lands. 
The  lawyer  pleads  his  client's  case — 
Travels  '  round  from  place  to  place, 
Relates  his  plea  in  open  court. 
The  judge  rules  out  his  last  report. 
New  bondsmen  come  to  stop  the  fight, 
And  leave  him  where  the  wool-is-tight. 
True  justice  is  so  far  away, 
The  poor,  to  wait  the  law's  delay, 
Must  try  to  do  without  their  dues, 
And  tread  the  way  without  their  shoes, 
Another  class  of  men,  '  tis  true, 
Pretended  friends  of  me  and  you, 
Some  millions ■,  more  or  less,  I  think. 
Who  say  the  world  was  made  to  drink. 
They  drink  bad  health  to  one  another, 
Each  pulls  down  a  falling  brother; 
Deplete  the  State  to  pay  their  crimes, 
Disguise  the  truth  and  cry  hard-times. 
Rum  and  fashion,  pride  and  folly, 
Jim  and  John  and  Cousin  Molly, 
Fostering  all  these  foolish  crimes, 
Must  ever  make  cold  hard-times. 
No  statesman,  but  an  humble  bard, 
Has  told  you  why  the  times  are  hard. 
Let  every  one  their  mission  fill, 
Bay  off  your  debt  and  stop  the  still, 
Train  up  the  young  as  they  should  go, 
Let  old  and  young  their  duty  know, 
Earn  before  you  spend  your  dimes, 
And  then,  we  won't  have  hard-times. 


204  PEN    PICTURES 

THE  POWER  OF  TRUTH. 

O  virtuous  truth!  on  my  tongue  repose, 
Like  dew  from  heaven  on  the  blushing  rose; 
A  healing  balm  for  every  wind  that  blows ; 
Star  of  the  morning — light  of  ev'ry  age — 
Prop  of  the  beggar,  and  pride  of  the  sage  — 
Solace  of  the  weak — glory  of  the  strong — 
Guide  of  the  critic  and  the  poet's  song; 
Pure  as  the  diamond,  as  brilliant  and  bright, 
Tho'  covered  with  falsehood  dark  as  the  night, 
Will  furnish  the  mind  with  a  ray  of  light, 
Tho'  faint  as  the  infant  ray  of  the  morn 
Heralds  the  news  that  young  day  is  born. 
Sure  as  the  heavenly-piercing  eye  of  day, 
Peeps  e'er  the  hills,  to  look  dark  night  away, 
Ungarnished  truth  will  banish  falsehood. 


THE  WHEELS  OF  TIME. 

How  slow  the  iron  wheels  of  Time  can  turn, 
When  from  the  hidden  future  we  would  learn 
Some  anxious  lesson  of  eventful  life  ! 
How  slow,  how  deadly  slow,  and  with  what  strife, 
They  seem  to  turn  upon  the  road  of  Time ; 
How  harsh  upon  the  ear  their  sound  doth  chime ! 
But  when  the  dark-faced  future  holds  in  store 
Some  reckoning  of  a  different  score — 
Some  fearful  lesson  that  we  have  to  learn — 
How  swift  the  nimble  wheels  of  Time  can  turn ! 


PEN   PICTURES.  205 

THE  DAYS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 

I  am  wand'ring  back  to  the  days  of  my  childhood — 

The  mill,  the  pasture,  and  deep  tangled  wildwood; 

The  orchard,  the  cellar,  and  apple  that  mellows, 

The  sound  of  the  horn,  and  laugh  of  my  fellows. 

The  morning's  brief  meal,  and  refreshments  at  noon, 

The  stroll  in  the  wood  by  the  light  of  the  moon ; 

The  bath  in  the  river,  and  fisherman's  line, 

The  herding  of  cattle,  and  feeding  of  swine. 

The  morning  in  the  field,  the  song  of  the  lark, 

The  evening  at  the  cot,  and  play  at  the  park ; 

The  long  nights  of  winter,  and  games  of  the  season, 

The  fine  flow  of  spirits  ne'er  tainted  with  treason. 

The  bright  days  of  summer  joyfully  seen, 

The  rove  through  the  garden  of  flowers  serene ; 

The  blossoms  of  spring,  and  the  leaves  of  the  fall, 

The  sound  of  the  voice  of  a  playmate's  call; 

The  memories  of  childhood  and  young  dreams  ®f  age 

Are  twin-sister  flowers  in  the  mind  of  the  sage. 

0  sweet  path  of  childhood,  flowers  of  the  past ! 

1  traverse  thee  in  dreams,  and  hug  thee  so  fast ! 
When  day  opens  eyes,  and  morning  lays  cold, 
The  gray  hairs  of  age,  and  sorrows  of  old, 

I  would  go  back  to  slumber,  live  o'er  again 
The  joys  of  my  youth,  forgetting  the  pain 
Of  age,asorrows,  perplexities,  and  strife, 
That  shade  and  darken  the  last  end  of  life, 


206  PEN    PICTURES. 

IDOLS  AND  IDEAS. 

ESSAY    ON    JACOB    AND    LABAN. 

Turn  back  in  history,  four  thousand  years, 

At  Laban's  house  a  brilliant  youth  appears. 

Young  Jacob,  in  the  ardor  of  his  life, 

Willing  to  serve  seven  years  for  a  wife. 

Rachel  and  Leah  concerted  a  plan, 

To  blindfold  cupid  and  catch  the  young  man. 

Rachel  was  pretty  and  modestly  shy, 

Leah,  the  eldest,  was  weak  in  the  eye. 

Jacob  was  faithful,  honest  and  kind, 

The  image  of  Rachel  first  in  his  mind. 

Seven  years  service  completed  the  trade ; 

Leban  gave  Jacob  the  blushing  young  maid ; 

The  wedding  at  night  bewilder' d  his  head, 

And  daylight  found  old  Leah  in  his  bed. 

The  hand  of  Rachel  must  Jacob  deplore, 

For  Laban  demanded  seven  years  more ; 

The  service  performed,  at  Laban's  demand, 

Jacob  took  Rachel,  at  last,  by  the  hand. 

Rachel  and  Leah  bore  sons  and  daughters. 

Jacob  cast  cattle  with  rods  and  waters ; 

His  wages  is  stock,  and  all  that  he  got 

Was  each  cattle-calf  found  marked  with  a  spot. 

Laban  loved  to  mold  his  gods  in  metal ; 

Jacob  filPd  the  fields  with  spotted  cattle. 

Old  Laban's  fortune,  with  his  cattle  went, 

And  Jacob  saw  the  face  of  discontent. 

With  wives,  and  herds,  and  servants  at  command, 

He  left  the  Laban  house  for  his  native  land ; 

With  horn  and  hoof,  and  whoop  and  halloo, 

With  some  to  lead  and  some  to  follow, 


PEN   PICTURES.  207 

And  crop  the  grass  on  distant  sods. 

Young  Rachel  stole  old  Laban's  gods, 

Bereft  01  cattle,  and  his  daughters  too, 

Old  Laban  thought  it  idle  to  pursue, 

In  summing  up  the  ends  and  odds, 

The  old  man  missed  his  idol  gods, 

And  paddled  on  to  overtake, 

As  he  thought,  the  treacherous  Jake. 

Laban  and  Jake  met  face  and  face, 

Each  maintained  a  sacred  place. 

The  god  of  Laban — an  Idol ; 

The  God  of  Jacob — an  Idea. 

And  there  they  planted  a  lasting  stone, 

That  each  should  let  the  other  alone. 

On  the  east,  the  Syrian  hero  stood, 

On  the  west,  Jacob  gave  himself  to  God. 

In  rolling  on  the  human  flood, 

Some  will  turn  back  to  Laban's  blood. 

A  golden  calt   since  Aaron's  day, 

Is  all  that  some  can  preach  and  pray, 

While  some  in  folly,  go  to  seed, 

And  make  idols  of  Christian  creed. 

God  is  an  idea  in  the  mind, 

Eternal  with  all  human  kind. 

All  idols  are  to  represent, 

And  in  value  net  worth  a  cent. 


208  PEN   PICTURES. 

THE  DYING  DRUNKARD  TO  HIS  SOUL. 

Heaven  forsaken — fer  one  sin, 
The  soul  set  out,  when  wine  set  in. 
A  vision  of  light  in  the  deep  dark ! 
I  see  the  still — a  living  spark ; 
Bewildered  like  a  fallen  star, 
Oh,  how  I  wonder  what  you  are ! 

Then — it  surpasses  me  to  know 

In  endless  space — where  you  will  go; 

Shut  out  from  heaven  by  decree, 

As  a  wandering  refugee ; 

To  wander  on  from  shore  to  shore 

And  never  find  an  open  door. 

Traveling  on,  without  h©pe  or  home, 
Through  endless  ages  yet  to  come — 
No  time  to  plead,  no  place  for  prayer, 
'Tis  desolation  everywhere. 
Oh,  heaven  come !  do  tell  me  why, 
The  drunkard's  soul  can  never  die; 

The  Devil,  for  one  sin  alone, 
Will  never  claim  you  as  his  own. 
Lost!   Oh,  Bacchus — thou  God  of  wine; 
Look  upon  this  poor  soul  of  mine ; 
Ope'  thy  bubbling  wine-bottle  eye — 
And  as  it  lives,  let  thy  mission  die. 


PEN  PICTURES.  209 

THE  MONEYLESS  MAN  vs.   MONEYLESS  WOMAN. 

The  Moneyless  Man  was  composed  by  Henry  T.  Stanten,  of  Mays- 
ville,  Kentucky.  It  has  been  read  on  the  stage  in  the  city  of  London, 
and  won  the  applause  of  thousands  of  England's  gifted  orators. 

Is  there  no  secret  place  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 
Where  charity  dwelleth,  where  virtue  hath  birth, 
Where  bosoms  in  mercy  and  kindness  will  heave, 
And  the  poor  and  the  wretched  shall  ask  and  receive. 

Is  there  no  place  on  earth  where  a  knock  from  the  poor 
Will  bring  a  kind  angel  to  open  the  door  ? 
Ah !  search  the  wide  world  whenever  you  can, 
There's  no  open  door  for  the  moneyless  man. 

•Go,  look  in  your  hall,  where  chandelier's  light 
Drives  off  with  its  splendor  the  darkness  of  night ; 
Where  the  rich,  hanging  velvet  in  shadowy  fold, 
Sweeps  gracefully  down  with  its  trimmings  of  gold, 

And  the  mirrors  of  silver  take  up  and  renew, 
In  long,  lighted  vistas,  the  wildering  view. 
Go  there  in  your  patches,  and  find  if  you  can, 
A  welcoming  smile  for  the  moneyless  man ! 

Go,  look  in  yon  church  of  the  cloud-reaching  spire, 
Which  gives  back  to  the  sun  the  same  look  of  red  fire ; 
Where  the  arches  and  columns  are  gorgeous  within, 
And  the  walls  seem  as  pure  as  a  soul  without  sin. 

Go  down  the  long  aisle — see  the  rich  and  the  great, 

In  the  pomp  and  the  pride  of  their  worldly  estate  ; 

Walk  down  in  your  patches  and  find  if  you  can, 

Who  opens  a  pew  to  a  moneyless  man. 
»  14 


210  PEN    PICTURES. 

Go  look  to  yon  judge,  in  his  dark,  flowing  gown, 
With  the  scales  wherein  law  weigh eth  equity  down, 
Where  he  frowns  on  the  weak  and  smiles  on  the  strong, 
And  punishes  right,  while  he  justifies  wrong; 

Where  jurors  their  lips  on  the  Bible  have  laid, 
To  render  a  verdict  they've  already  made ; 
Go  there  in  the  court  room,  and  find  if  you  can, 
Any  law  for  the  cause  of  a  moneyless  man ! 

Go  look  in  yon  banks,  where  Mammon  has  told 
His  hundreds  and  thousands  of  silver  and  gold ; 
Where  safe  from  the  hands  of  the  starving  and  poor, 
Lies  pile  upon  pile  of  the  glittering  ore ; 

Walk  up  to  the  counter — ah !  there  you  may  stay, 
Till  your  limbs  grow  old  and  your  hair  turns  gray, 
And  you'll  find  at  the  banks  no  one  of  the  clan 
With  money  to  loan  to  a  moneyless  man ! 

Then  go  to  your  hovel,  no  raven  has  fed 
The  wife  who  has  suffered  too  long  for  her  bread. 
Kneel  down  by  her  pallet  and  kiss  the  death  frost 
From  the  lips  of  the  angel  you  poverty  lost; 

Then  turn,  in  your  agony,  upward  to  God, 
And  bless,  while  it  smites  you,  the  chastening  rod; 
And  you'l  find  at  the  end  of  your  life's  little  span, 
There's  a  welcome  above  for  a  moneyless  man. 


PEN    PICTURES.  211 

THE  MONEYLESS  WOMAN 

"Was  written  by  your  orator  after  reading  the  "  Moneyless  Man,"  and 
first  published  in  1868. 

In  answer  to  all  Mr.  Stanten  has  said, 

I'll  speak  a  kind  word  for  the  moneyless  maid. 

There  is  one  place  on  earth,  where  a  knock  from  the 

poor, 
Will  bring  a  kind  angel  to  open  the  door. 

I've  searched  the  wide  world  in  open  review, 
From  the  three-legged  stool  to  the  fine  cushion* d  pew, 
And  found  by  the  dint  of  a  wonderful  scan, 
The  only  true  mate  of  the  moneyless  man. 

Come,  Mr.  Stanten,  and  I'll  open  the  door, 
And  show  you  the  angel,  so  meek  and  so  poor. 

The  merchant  with  his  silks  and  satins  for  sale, 
May  listen  an  hour  to  a  frivolous  taie, 
Or  talk  for  a  day  of  his  diamonds  and  pearls. 
But  has  nothing  to  say  to  moneyless  girls. 

The  doctor,  with  his  pills,  forceps  and  knife, 
Hoarding  up  money;  the  cost  of  your  life, 
Will  purchase  a  coach,  more  easy  to  ride, 
But  seldom  escorts  a  moneyless  bride. 

The  farmer  with  his  fields  blooming  and  green, 
Will  go  to  the  church  to  see  and  be  seen, 
And  often  returns  to  his  hoe  and  spade. 
But  never  takes  home  a  moneyless  maid. 

The  preacher  condemns  the  goods  of  this  life, 
As  unworthy — both  husband  and  wife, 


"Z\2  PEN    PICTURES. 

Looking  beyond  them  for  all  of  his  bliss, 
Seldom  unites  with  a  moneyless  miss. 

The  lawyer  sums  up  the  strength  of  his  fees, 
To  court  your  favor,  will  get  on  his  knees, 
For  money  alone,  will  honor  your  name, 
But  never  pays  court  to  a  moneyless  dame. 

The  statesman  expounds  the  laws  for  a  bank, 
Rough  hews  a  platform  and  stands  on  a  plank, 
Surveys  the  country,  and  tells  of  its  fate, 
But  never  will  choose  a  moneyless  mate. 

The  soldier  with  his  sword,  detesting  a  foe, 
So  gallant  on  the  field  his  colors  to  show, 
So  brave  at  the  call  of  the  drum  and  the  fife, 
Is  too  timid  to  take  a  moneyless  wife. 

The  poet  will  sing  the  story  of  fame, 
1      Give  frivolous  things  a  glorious  name ; 
Sing  for  a  friend,  or  sing  for  a  foeman, 
But  has  no  song  for  a  moneyless  woman. 

Now,  Mr.  Stanten,  return  to  your  muse, 
And  measure  her /<?£/,  to  see  what  you  lose, 
Inspire  her  brain,  deny  if  you  can, 
I've  found  a  true  mate  for  the  mo?ieyless  ?nan. 

Note — When  these  poems  are  spoken  on  the  stage,  by  a  gentle- 
man and  lady,  the  lady  should  adopt  the  name  of  the  gentleman 
speaking,  instead  of  Mr.  Stanten's 


PEN    PICTURES.  213 

THE  POET. 

A  man  of  sorrow,  all  compact,  of  imagination  full ;  whose  fertile 
brain  never  drops  the  blossom. 

Rhymers  are  plenty.     Poets  are  like 

TOM  WATSON'S  DEER. 

In  joyous  early  times  and  back-woods  life, 

A  party  went  out  to  hunt,  and  camped 

By  a  certain  stream  called  Little  Fork. 

And  with  the  rising  of  the  morning  sun, 

Hunting  deer  they  went,  two  by  two,  save  Tom, 

Who  went  alone  and  traversed  the  woods 

The  livelong  day,  and  with  the  setting  sun 

Returned  to  camp.     His  comrades,  lively  sat, 

In  merry  chat,  around  the  burning  coals. 

Ah !  what  luck  ?  said  one,  as  Tom  walked  up. 

Good  luck,  said  Tom,  I've  killed  a  dozen  deer. 

Where?  Where?  Where?  said  all  of  them  at  once.  • 

Two  I  hung  on  Pleasant  Hill,  hard  by  the 

New-built  church.      Four  I  left  on  Roebuck  Ridge 

Right  west  of  Potter's  field,  on  live  oak  trees. 

Five  are  strung  in  Greenwood  swamp,  '  long  the  shore, 

And  face  the  East,  right  on  the  public  road. 

And  one  I  left  on  Little  Fork,  right  at 

The  Jtsaiiey  Ford ;  and  Tom  Watson  sat  down. 

Bob  and  I  straight  have  come,  from  Pleasant  Hill, 

Passed  the  new-built  church,  and  saw  no  deer, 

Saio  Biii.     We,  too,  have  come  from  Roebuck  Ridge, 

Passed  '  round  the  Potter's  held,  and  saw  no  deer, 

Sam  joe.  And  we  have  come  from  Greenwood  swamp, 

Along  tne  puDlic  roaa,  and  saw  no  deer, 

SaidJSam  and  Q.     Tom  Watson  looked  sad, 

And  rising  up,  he  said :  I  hunted  down 


214  PEN   PICTURES. 

The  Little  Fork ;  when  near  the  Bailey  Ford, 

A  big  buck  bounced  up.     I  leveled  down 

My  fowling  piece  and  shot  him  through  the  head, 

And  hung  him  on  a  Sweet-gum  tree,  right  at 

The  Bailey  Ford.     Just  then,  Cliff  Carlo  came 

And  said  :  I  have  hunted  up  and  down 

The  Little  Fork,  and  crossed  the  Bailey  Ford. 

Did  you  see  Tom's  deer  ?  said  all  at  once. 

No,  I  saw  no  game.     Then  Tom,  laughing,  said: 

I  take  my  boasting  back — but,  sure  as  fate, 

I  crossed  the  creek  right  at  the  Bailey  Ford, 

And  looked  with  all  my  eyes,  and  in  the  mud, 

Hard  by  the  shore — I  saw  the  d d  thing's  track. 


Farewell  to  all,  both  great  and  small, 
Who  live  upon  this  dirty  ball ; 
Remember  me — God  bless  you  all, 
And  softly  let  the  curtain  fall. 


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